


Venom and Vulnerability

by darkmagicalgirl



Series: Curses and Consequence [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (OCs only for that one), (only a little and skippable), Alternate Universe - Final Haikyuu Quest, Biting, Blood Drinking, Light Bondage, M/M, Minor Character Death, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-30
Packaged: 2018-04-21 06:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 48,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4818188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darkmagicalgirl/pseuds/darkmagicalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kyoutani Kentarou has a problem, the kind that begins with a fairy and ends with him under a curse that turns him into a fighting beast whenever he gets too upset. With nowhere else to turn, he goes to the Grand King of the demons for help, and accidentally gets a lot more than he bargained for in the process. He's drawn into a palace full of paranatural plants, atypical architectures, and a half-demon courtier who just happens to despise everything about him. (Smut skippable)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Arrebatar

**Author's Note:**

> Final Haikyuu Quest YahaKyou AU! Something I've been wanting to do for a while, and kyouhaba week gave the perfect motivation to actually work on it so I could turn it in for the Day 5: AU of your Choice prompt~
> 
> Updates will be every three days, finishing on the 29th.
> 
> Each chapter will contain some specific warnings and how to skip over those sections if you need to!

Like so many fairytales, Kyoutani’s story began with a wish gone wrong. Looking back, it was the kind of mistake anyone should have seen coming, or so it seemed to him, but apparently desperate times called for ridiculously stupid measures.

His village had a problem. A wolf problem, and a magical wolf problem at that. A pack of cursed wolves had fled from where the demon wars had ravaged yet another part of the countryside and managed to make their way to Minamisan Village where they wreaked havoc on the villagers, destroying lives and livelihoods.

After the third month of attacks, the elders knew something had to be done. They decreed that whoever was able to solve their wolf problem and rid them all of this danger would earn a great reward - a pile of riches pooled from the village to tempt potential rescuers.

Kyoutani’s father was tempted. He knew he couldn’t fight the wolves himself, but he had a strong son and a map that led to a trapped fairy. Dragging Kyoutani along, his father followed his map until they reached a magnolia tree encircled with an iron chain, a ward keeping the creature stuck inside the wood.

While his father spoke with the fairy, Kyoutani was left to brood out of earshot, squatting by a fallen oak and poking at the flowers growing there. All of eleven years old, he was aggravated to have been forced on what he considered a fool’s quest while the other boys back at the village were learning to fight with bows and arrows.

“This is bullshit,” he grumbled, not bothering to keep his voice down. “Why the hell am I even here?”

Perhaps, if he had been older or wiser, Kyoutani would not have been so foolish as to speak a question while alone in an enchanted wood. Such questions frequently tempted answers, and such answers often caused more trouble than the questions that invited them.

“What’s so wrong with being here?” A voice curled out of the darkness, warm despite the shivers it sent down the boy’s spine.

Kyoutani jumped and looked around thoroughly, unsheathing the dagger his father allowed him to carry, but he could find no one nearby.

“Who’s there?” he asked, trying to mask the fear in his voice. “Show yourself!”

“So bossy, little human,” came another reply from no one at all. Then Kyoutani started in shock, for before his eyes, one of the flowers he had been carelessly handling not moments ago began to grow, swelling up to double, triple the size in the space of a single breath, the bud unfurling into a massive blossom unlike one he had ever seen before. The petals were black tipped with gold and as they seemed to have come in an infinite number, more and more petals appearing as the flower continued to grow.

Kyoutani scrambled back, unnerved by this unnatural display. As his back hit a tree, dagger raised in shaky hand, the flower flickered and turned on itself in a swirl of magic that blinded Kyoutani. When he opened his eyes, no flower remained, but in its place was a boy who appeared not much older than himself, wearing a fluttering black cape and twirling a flower between long fingers.

If Kyoutani had been wary before, he was terrified now. The red of the boy’s eyes and the horns nestled in chocolate brown hair marked him as a demon. Kyoutani had never seen one before in person, but he had heard the tales told by all who had been lucky to meet one such creature and lived. They were wild things, constantly at war with the territories around them, crowning kings and murdering them within the space of months.

This demon, for his part, looked amused and flattered by Kyoutani’s fear. He took a delicate seat on the log and crossed his legs, smirking up at Kyoutani as only one who was sure of the difference in power between himself and those surrounding him could do.

“No need to make such a fearful face, little human,” the demon assured him. “I’m simply curious, is all, about what could cause someone to want to free the pest I trapped in that circle.”

“You put the fairy there?” Kyoutani asked, tightening his grip on the dagger. If the demon was angry about them releasing an old foe, he might trap them in its place.

“Oh, don’t worry about that,” the demon said, making Kyoutani wonder if the thing had the ability to read his mind. “I don’t mind him being let out, not really. He’s a mercenary, no interest in power for himself, he might never have crossed me if he weren’t so often hired by the Silent Forces. I merely meant to teach him a lesson, is all, about choosing his employers with care. Only, I wonder if you are making such a wise decision? Making deals with the fae rarely ends well for you humans, though you certainly do keep trying.”

“I don’t know what kind of deal my father is making,” Kyoutani said. “But he wants me to be able to defeat the cursed wolves.”

The demon’s eyes narrowed and he tapped his knee once, twice, before coming to a decision. “It is not truly fair, is it, to make a deal where someone else will reap not the benefits but the consequences for you,” he said in a tone that made it seem like he was only idly musing, belying his sharp eyes. “Perhaps I’m just in a good mood today, little human, but your surely tragic tale has touched my heart!”

“Uh,” Kyoutani said, his sense of alarm rising with every moment that the demon regarded him with such an eerily sharp gaze hidden behind a wide smile that exposed fangs.

“Hush and listen well, for I shan’t be able to stay here much longer,” the demon said. “My overzealous toadstool of a friend is sure to miss me soon.”

Kyoutani swallowed and nodded. If he listened, this creature would leave, and that seemed the best outcome to him now.

“I will grant you this: when your father’s deal backfires, as it inevitably will, and you suffer for it, as, again, you inevitably will, come to the demon’s palace in the capital and I will offer you what help I am able, and perhaps even make some use of you. Do you know where the capital is?”

Kyoutani shook his head. Not much information about the country of demons was known in his village, though every story that reached them was more outlandish than the last. Kings and queens being overthrown as fast as the seasons, uprisings that blighted all the land, dark mages stealing human children. 

“Ah, well,” the demon said with a grand shrug that showed how little concern he had for the whole situation. “I suppose that’s what will make it an adventure, then. Find your way to the palace and to me, and I shall offer you some help. Good luck, little human, and try not to get killed in the meantime. I’m sure your story will be quite entertaining, so I’d hate for it to end before it is time for my grand re-entrance.”

While Kyoutani nodded and thought privately with all the surety eleven years on the planet could bring that he would never seek out the help of such a terrifying and annoyingly self-satisfied demon, the creature turned rather floral around the edges and with another blinding burst of magic he was gone, leaving only a flower that was ever so slightly larger and more ostentatiously colored than its peers in his place.

This would have been more than enough excitement for one day by Kyoutani’s standards, but it was at this moment that his father’s shout reached his ears. Kyoutani went running toward the noise, barely having time to fear what horror might have been wrought upon his father by fairy or demon hands, but when he reached the grove his father was unharmed.

In fact, he was smiling greater than Kyoutani had ever seen. The iron chain circle was broken and in his father’s hand was a chalice of silver and garnet, filled with some red liquid that seemed to sparkle in what sunlight filtered through the canopy.

“Kentarou,” his father said, voice crackling with excitement. “I’ve done it! In return for his freedom, the fairy gave us this enchanted wine. When you drink it, you will become a being with the strength of a hundred cursed wolves, and with each creature you slay, you will gain some of their power. Do you understand? You will become unstoppable, we will be rich! Drink the wine, drink it at once!”

Kyoutani took the chalice from his father automatically, but when he looked down and say his face reflected there, eyes wide and face pale, he could not help but hear the demon’s words echo in his head, saying that a deal made between a human and a fairy was bound to end badly for the human at stake.

“Kentarou,” his father said, losing patience. “What are you waiting for? Aren’t you tired of going hungry every night, of wearing clothes with holes? Of not being able to buy a proper sword like the other boys do? You know how hard it’s been for me, for us, ever since your mother died. This is our way out of all that. You’ll be able to travel all over the world performing heroic deeds for a price and we’ll never want for money again.”

That settled it. Forcing the demon’s words out of his mind, Kyoutani raised the chalice to his lips and drained it. The wine poured cool down his throat, prickling and bubbling with life of its own. He had the strangest sensation of something else clawing into him, into his body, into his _soul_.

Almost immediately, Kyoutani was stricken by an intense pain. Lightning danced within his veins, lancing through his body sharper than any blade could have done. The chalice fell from his hands and he collapsed on the ground, muscles seizing uncontrollably. 

He blacked out and knew no more for many days.

—

Over a decade later, when Kyoutani was a man grown and a monster made, he stood at the gates to the capital city in the country of demons, sword strapped to his back and hood hiding his face from view. The gates were a mess of travelers and merchants seeking entry. Guards milled through the crowd, trying to maintain some semblance of order.

Kyoutani could make out the demon’s palace over the top of the tall gates, where it sat at the top of the hill. It was a beautiful building, if one went for that sort of thing, shining in the sun with the help of magicked gems. Kyoutani was more interested in the height of the walls and how many guards might be standing on them. It was hard to believe that this palace had been one of the few places to withstand centuries of demon rebellions and infighting, only finding any modicum of peace in recent years, yet something about it spoke of ancientness, of implacable resilience. 

Although the spring sun beat down hot against the cobblestone road and the way the crowd jostled in close, making the heat rise yet more, Kyoutani did not take down his hood and kept his cloak wrapped tight about him. He knew better than to let his face be seen in a crowd like this. He would much prefer to enter the city unremarked upon, even if meant sweat trickling down his back and catching an elbow or two to the gut as people jostled toward the front of the line.

As the hours passed with him only making marginal progress toward the gates, Kyoutani’s temper began to fray. The heat was getting unbearable as it reached the peak of its journey through the sky. A bard had taken place by the crowd, busking for what coins he might get thrown, but his talent was negligible and the off-key trillings of his lute mingled with the shouts of children in the most grating way imaginable.

Kyoutani knew he must remain calm to avoid having an episode here. This was easier said than done, however, especially when his deep, calming breaths were interrupted by a merchant’s donkey stepping on his foot, making him curse at the man’s retreating back, receiving not even a word of apology.

He had no choice but to content himself with imagining all the small bones he might break in the bard’s hands and how he could quite easily smash the foot of the merchant with so little regard for Kyoutani’s toes. These imaginings were more than a little satisfying, but they did nothing to calm the storm brewing in Kyoutani’s heart and by the time he had reached the gates, his mood had grown from foul to tempestuous. 

“Name?” a guard asked him. The guards seemed to work in duos, trying to introduce some order to the chaos of the city entrance. The one who had addressed him was a tall youth who appeared human, something that surprised Kyoutani. He had assumed that he would be dealing entirely with demons, such as this boy’s partner, a bored looking demon with dark hair who seemed as ill-pleased by the crowd as Kyoutani felt.

“Gendairou,” Kyoutani lied, voice gruff from underuse. He was not accustomed to speaking with others, these days.

“What’s your business in Seijou?” the human guard asked, writing on the scroll he carried. Kyoutani looked more intently at the boy’s hair, which stuck straight up, looking for any trace of horns that might mark him as having some demon ancestry even if he were not a full-blooded creature, yet he still could find none. He wondered if this was one of the human children the demons had stolen.

“I’m looking for someone,” he said. It was not a lie.

At his answer, the guards exchanged a look and the demon straightened from where he’d been leaning against a stopped cart.

“Who are you looking for?” he asked, voice quiet but clear. Catching Kyoutani’s suspicious look even with the hood still carefully obscuring much of his face, the demon sighed. “Do you know how many human gawkers we have shuffling through our land with excuses like that? State your interest clearly or leave.”

“I’m searching for a demon,” Kyoutani said. “I do not know his name.”

“There’s a lot of demons here, being the capital of our country and all,” the demon said, sounding unimpressed. “Can you describe this one?”

Kyoutani considered lying but decided it was not in his best interest. The prospect of finding a single demon in a city the size of this one did not appeal. “He is a full-blooded demon, tall, with brown hair and red eyes, thick horns. Very thick. He dressed richly, in all black, and said I could find him in the palace.”

The two guards tensed and a look was exchanged between them, inscrutable. “You met this man?”

“This demon, yes,” Kyoutani said. “He was… his personality was fairly distinctive.”

“What, exactly, is the purpose of your hunt?” the demon guard asked. Although his posture had not changed much from his original slight slouch, his aura had grown. The other guard had put his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Kyoutani cursed that his own sword is on his back and balled his hands into fists under his cloak. He did not doubt his ability to fight his way from the city if need be, but it would be a great step backward. “That is my business,” he said, readying himself.

“If that’s the case, I’m afraid we can’t let you in,” the demon guard said. “If we let ever rough human searching for the Grand King into the capital, we’d lose our posts. He has better things to do nowadays than teach would-be assassins manners.”

Kyoutani’s frown deepened. That the demon he had met was the king of this country, the so-called Grand King, was an unpleasant surprise. He had assumed that the creature must have been nobility of some sort, his clothes and general demeanor had shown that even before he had said to find him at the palace, but the king? That promised only hassle. He didn’t know much about this demon lord, only the tales that seven years ago, he had come into power and spent years uniting the demonic factions into an unprecedented peace, somehow escaping the fate of every previous monarch to take the throne before him. It had earned him both respect and fear across the world, as well as his nickname of Grand King.

“I’m not an assassin,” Kyoutani said, raising his hands to show their lack of weaponry. “I’m seeking his aid.” Though whether seeking aid from a demon was a wise idea, Kyoutani was still unsure.

“You come to our city seeking out our king, give a false name, hide your face, and you expect us to believe you have no ill intentions?” the demon asked and smiled faintly. “Surprised we know it was a false name? The scroll is enchanted, it will not record a name if it is not true. Helps sort out the unsavory characters like yourself.”

“If you can tell that, you ought to be able to tell that I’m not lying about having no wish to fight your ruler,” Kyoutani said, keeping an eye on how several other guards were circling round his back.

“We know no such thing,” the human guard said. “It doesn’t work that way.”

Kyoutani growled in frustration. He was close to losing control and should leave, he knew, but he had come too far to be turned away. He had crossed the Dying Wastelands, scaled the Iron Wall, and fought through the Burning Forests in his journey to find the demon who had promised him help so long ago. He could not let himself be impeded now.

“Let me in,” he said, not bothering to disguise the aggravation coloring his voice.

“No,” the demon guard said. “Leave, before we must remove you.”

That was it, then. They had forced his hand and Kyoutani had no choice. He could only hope to end this quickly, before the last of his control snapped.

In a smooth motion, he had his sword off his back in the blink of an eye and swung it wide, forcing those guards coming from the rear to jump back lest they be felled. They eyed his sword with wary respect, as well they should. It was large, a much larger blade than any human might naturally lift, but Kyoutani’s strength was nothing near that of a natural man and he had no trouble swinging the monster blade as easily as if it weighed no more than the dagger he had used as a child.

It was taller than even he was, which was why he had to strap it to his back at an angle, and made of black metal known for being nigh indestructable. It was broad across as well, with one side long than the other so that they met at a hard, third edge.

The hulking sword had two other features that marked it out to those who looked beyond its size. It lacked any sort of hand guard that might prevent his grip from mistakenly sliding down to the blade, and that blade itself was sharp on both sides, a double-edged sword that could slice as well back as it did forward.

“This is your last warning,” Kyoutani said, flexing his hand on the sword hilt. “Let me through.”

The demon guard did not bother to reply with words but instead raised his hands, the glow of imminent magic already appearing between his fingers. A blast of air swelled, prepared to slam him to the ground. It was a good thought, to avoid the advantages afforded to him by his sword, but Kyoutani had fought demons before and was no ordinary swordsman.

He brought his sword up, using its considerable width as a shield from the wind raised by the demon and dug his heels in so he might not be swept back. When the pressure lessened, he twisted his hand so he might chop with his sword down at the demon, who ducked back, looking irritated not to be able to finish this battle in one move.

The momentum of their fight swept his hood back from his face, revealing it to the crowd. The gasps were immediate. Not many could contain some noise of surprise at the marks on his face, those pulsing dark lines that twisted across his cheekbones. He did not know how far they had grown yet, only that they must not have connected from their origin points by his eyes and at the edge of his hair line over his ears, for he still had control. He could guess they must have been spreading from the point he had cursed the merchant who’d run over his foot.

“That man is a criminal!” someone in the crowd shouted, making Kyoutani wish to swear once more. It would have been too much to ask, that he be able to bare his face and not be recognized. “He’s the Mad Dog Knight!”

If they knew that, they ought to know to leave him alone, Kyoutani thought, but he more than anyone knew how the temptation of a reward might move someone to act with reckless bravado, and the reward he had on his head was high indeed.

Soon he was surrounded, guards and civilians alike attempting to apprehend him. His sword flashed quick, but with so many enemies and half his attention given to trying to maintain a vestige of control, some attacks found their way true. The two guards he’d spoken with were the most skilled of the combatants, in continuation of his usual bad luck, and as the demon blinded him with a dazzling burst of light, his human partner slipped in close and a stinging line of pain along Kyoutani’s ribs, cutting through even his adrenaline, informed him he had been hit.

The pain thudded in his ears, combining with the shouts of the crowd, as he blinked the spots from his vision and swept his sword in another great arc, trying to buy himself time, but it was not enough and his foes came in strong and—

He—

Lost control. 

Pain fractured through his mind, bright and unyielding, his senses gone red and fierce and **hungry** , hungry to fight and slash and kill and bleed, his body moving in a rush. His sword was but an extension of his arms, a pale replacement for claws and teeth that this form denied him. He longed to rip viscera from bellies, to sink teeth into throats.

He let out a great roar and tasted the air, scenting for prey and finding them all around him, pitifully unsuitable as anything but practice for greater kills. Not enough to sate him but only to whet his appetite for death. The first to go down would be the one who had the gall to slice him, and he whipped his blade wide to cleave the weakling in two.

“Kindaichi!” It was not the shout but the tremble in the air that spoke of magic being used that distracted him, and if he were still in possession of all his usual senses he might balk in his attack, but such a thing was antithesis to him now and his blade flew, only to hit an invisible wall and be deflected off its original course. 

The human went down, still mostly in one piece but crimson staining his cloak and his demon partner overtop him, one hand raised to form another magical shield and the other trying to apply pressure to the human’s wound. 

Kyoutani chopped down with his sword, sparks flying at the contact point between blade and shield. The demon’s magic held, but it shuddered. Another good strike would destroy it. Kyoutani had killed demons before, their inherent power no longer a match for his.

This demon was wiser than the others. The second his shield faltered, he dropped it. Clutching at his friend, he sprung up, landing atop a nearby cart, out of range of even Kyoutani’s blade. Kyoutani’s mouth widened in a wild grin. He so loved when his prey tried to run. It made killing them sweeter.

He struck out at the cart, smashing the wood with his sword and collapsing the supports. Demon and human toppled in with the canvas that made up the ceiling and Kyoutani raced in to finish them off together.

A sound behind him made him spin and he got his sword up just in time to block a strike. The power behind the cut was enough to cause a flare of pain in his arms that pierced even through his frenzy. He hacked forward without delay, but he hit what felt like a stone wall, solid and immovable.

His opponent’s next strike was too fast for him to follow. Pain burst on the side of his head and his vision went dark.

—

When Kyoutani opened his eyes once more, the ache in his head told him that enough time had passed since he had lost control that he had gone back to normal. The damage done to his body was now free to be felt keenly and it let itself be known with a hideous spread, sharp blazes and dull aches adding up to a cacophony of pain.

It was not often that he finished an episode this way. Although they did all end with him losing consciousness, usually that was because he had destroyed everything around him without pause until his body collapsed, unable to stand the super-adrenalized state for any longer.

For him to have been put down earlier was something he’d had the dubious pleasure to experience only twice before. Neither memory was good. He did not expect this time to go any better, especially not when his returning senses showed him that he was tied up, in a room, all by himself. His sword was gone, making him feel exposed. He loved his sword, his only constant companion. If they meant to keep him away from it, he would make them regret it.

It felt like rope that was tying him, hands behind his back, pulled tight. He struggled to his feet and regretted it instantly, staggering against the wall as a wave of dizziness mixed with nausea hit him, turning his vision spotty. He dropped to his knees, dry-heaving.

The sound of wood sliding over stone signaled a door opening. He looked up, shaking his head to try to remove the cobwebs from his brain. The demon guard from earlier entered first, new scratches evident along his cheeks. Behind him was a human man, a mage by the staff in his hands. Some kind of monk, perhaps, as his head was shorn close and he had the frustratingly serene air those types always seemed to cart around with them. 

“Easy,” the mage said, kneeling next to him. “The spells we’ve had on you to keep you asleep are quite strong, I’m afraid.” He made as though to put a hand beneath Kyoutani’s chin to tip his head for some sort of examination, only to pull back when Kyoutani snapped at him. “Hmm.”

“Don’t bother, Watari-san,” the demon guard said, not bothering to look in Kyoutani’s direction. “He doesn’t want our help.”

“He can’t stand trial if he can’t stand,” the mage answered and smiled at Kyoutani. “I’m sorry, I just need to check some of your vital signs. Then I can help ease some of the side effects.”

“What do you want from me?” Kyoutani asked. His voice came out slurred, he felt like he had cotton packed into his cheeks.

“You’re getting your wish,” the demon guard drawled. “You’re seeing the Grand King. Of course, he might sentence you to execution.”

“Kunimi,” Watari said with a reproving look. “Please don’t agitate my patient.”

Kunimi shrugged and folded his arms. “He asked.”

If he were to be taken to the demon he had met before, he supposed he ought to follow along. He allowed the mage to check him over, looking at his pupils and listening to the sounds of him breathing, before casting some kind of healing spell over him. Kyoutani felt the fog over his mind clear, so much stronger than any of the other healings he gotten in the past. Of course, since he healed supernaturally fast, he did not often part with his coin to fix what he could bear for the few days until his repaired itself. 

When he could stand without feeling sick, the demon guard led him from the room. They ducked through an assortment of maze-like corridors, so many that Kyoutani suspected that he was being taken around with the intention of making him lose his sense of direction to preemptively help thwart any kind of escape attempt he might be hoping to make.

Finally, they came out into a bright, open room, so large that it could hardly fall into the same category as the rooms that Kyoutani was used to, backrooms of taverns that smelt of piss and ale. This was a grand hall, with a ceiling so high that it might be six, even seven levels up from the floor, and a floor wide it could practically fit one of the smaller villages Kyoutani had travelled through.

The space was filled with people, beings of all shapes and sizes. There were demons and, almost as commonly, humans, but there were also centaurs, ogres, goblins, elementals, even a dragon twined around a pillar. Kyoutani could not help but stare at the variety around him. Never before had he seen so many of the beastly types gathered in one place. They were not fighting but socializing, wandering about to speak with creatures of all other forms. He would not have expected this from any palace, let alone one belonging to a demon.

“Keep moving,” Kunimi said, poking him hard in the back with two fingers and earning a snarl in response that did nothing to faze him. Then, when they had all but reached the center of this wide room, he gripped the back of Kyoutani’s tunic to stop him. “Wait.”

“This is him? Let me see.” The crowd, which had been gawking at Kyoutani with as much interest as he had been showing them, parted at these words, said in a commanding and familiar voice. Sure enough, when they had spread back far enough that Kyoutani could make out the speaker, a demon lounging on a great golden throne, he recognized him instantly.

The demon had grown since he had last seen him, with no baby fat left on his cheeks and his horns more sturdy than before, but he was the same smirking, black-clad figure. He leaned forward with interest, red eyes sweeping over Kyoutani’s form.

“Hmm? He looks familiar,” the Grand King said, twirling a bit of hair between his fingers. “Have you tried to kill me before, little human?”

“What? No!” Kyoutani said. The demon not immediately recognizing him was not a factor in his plans for how this meeting would go. Neither was being in custody. “And I wasn’t trying to kill you now.”

The king clapped his hands. “Hooray!” he said. “I always appreciate it when people aren’t trying to kill me. It so rarely happens, you know, and I just don’t understand. I never die and it just causes a lot of bother for everyone. It’s truly not worth the hassle.”

“Oikawa-sama,” Kunimi said with the air of someone used to having to keep the king on track. “He told us he was coming to seek your help with something.”

“My, my, how exciting,” the demon, now finally known to Kyoutani by name, said. “What is it, then, I wonder? I have so many areas of expertise, after all. Wait, let me guess! Fashion advice? Can’t think of a good birthday present for a friend? Oh, I know, your love life hasn’t been doing so well? You seem the type.”

“No!” Kyoutani snapped. “This is serious!”

“Everything I just said is serious,” Oikawa said and pouted. “Oh, I know, I know, you’re obviously here about that curse you’re under, but isn’t that so boring? People only ever come to me when they have magical problems. I’m a multifaceted individual, you realize, and I find this all somewhat hurtful!”

Kyoutani gaped at him. In all the times he had imagined how he would approach this meeting, what he would do if the demon didn’t want to help him or was more evil than he remembered or any other possibility, he had never accounted for the chance that the demon would be a fucking idiot.

He did his best to gather his wits again. “Look, demon,” he said. “You told me a long time ago, that when the magic I was under backfired, that I could come to you for aid.”

“Did I?” Oikawa asked. “How nice of me.”

Kyoutani gritted his teeth. “My father made a deal with a fairy, one who had been trapped in an iron circle-”

“Ah,” Oikawa said, shifting forward in his seat. “I remember now. Why, you’ve certainly let that curse fester long enough, haven’t you? I assumed you’d kicked the proverbial bucket ages ago.”

“I need your help,” Kyoutani said. “You promised me.”

“You tried to kill my guards and caused quite a bit of property damage, little human,” Oikawa said, eyes sparkling. “You would have done worse than that if Iwa-chan hadn’t stopped you.”

Kunimi coughed. “In fairness, he did seem somewhat possessed at the time,” he said blandly.

“I lose control,” Kyoutani explained, trying to get as much information out in a hurry before Oikawa could send him away or order him executed. “When I lose my temper or am in a fight, ever since I drank the wine the fairy gave us.”

“What, exactly, did the fairy claim the wine would do?” Oikawa asked.

“I wasn’t there to hear the exact words,” Kyoutani said. “But it was supposed to give me the power of a hundred cursed wolves, and that also with every creature I killed in battle, I would gain some of their power as well, so I would keep growing stronger. It was meant to save my village.” And earn his father a lot of money, of course. Neither had worked out as planned.

Oikawa hid a snicker behind a hand, though not very well. “Oh, humans,” he said. “As a species, you really must be my favorite of all. You never think things through, do you? Did your father ever stop to ask how you could gain such monstrous powers, without being turned into a monster yourself?”

“Hey!” The new voice cut through the air, making heads turn and Oikawa squeak. The King sat up straighter and put on an innocent expression, like a child caught out misbehaving by a loving but stern parent. “We’re back.” The speaker was a knight with bristly black hair and a sword nearly as large as Kyoutani’s own strapped to his back. Behind him was a demon, taller but of slighter frame, holding a thick journal.

“Excellent!” Oikawa leaned forward, waving them up. “I was just about to pass judgement.”

Kyoutani did his best not to fidget as he waited for the demon king to confer his ruling. If he was refused help here, he did not know what option would be left to him.

“Okay, okay!” Oikawa bounced up from his throne in a swirl of robes. “It’s been decided then! Human, what’s your name?”

“Kyoutani,” he said. “Kyoutani Kentarou.”

“I’ll offer you a deal. I’ll help you with your little magic problem and pardon you for your crimes, and in return, you’ll become one of my knights,” Oikawa said. “And work to pay off the cost of your rampage in my realm, of course, which has been totaled up to… what was the number, Yahaba?”

“One hundred million gold pieces,” the demon with the journal said, giving Kyoutani a withering look. “Taking into account the damage to crown property, repayments to the other travelers seeking entry who were injured or lost business from the delay, the medical costs for Kindaichi, the medical costs of the prisoner, and sundry other costs. Of course, adding in the price of feeding and housing the prisoner going forward will raise the number.”

Oikawa grinned. “Lovely! Keep me updated on that as it develops. Don’t worry,” he said, smiling beatifically down at Kyoutani. “I’m sure once we get you sorted out, you’ll have more than enough chances to repay the debt. So, do you agree?”

“Deal,” Kyoutani said without a pause. Being in debt forever was still better than losing control and becoming a murderous beast every time he got worked up.

“Hooray!” Oikawa clicked his fingers and the bindings on Kyoutani slithered over his skin, freeing him. “Yahaba, how about you get our newest knight set up in a room of his own, then, while Iwa-chan and I plan how to tackle the fae curse on him?”

“As you command,” the journal demon said and bowed before turning and walking past Kyoutani without a backwards glance, making Kyoutani have to hurry to not lose him in the crowd. He didn’t seem inclined to slow his pace and wound easily through courtiers and creatures alike. Kyoutani was glad when they left the great hall, re-entering the corridors of the palace. At least there he did not need to fear losing his escort behind a misplaced griffon.

Kyoutani took the opportunity to study this Yahaba. He wore black, as most of the demon’s court seemed to, but his tunic was trimmed with white, matching his high boots, and was closer fitting to his slim frame. Instead of a cape, he wore a white cloak that fell slightly past his waist. On closer inspection, Kyoutani thought he might not be a full-blooded demon, as his horns were thin where they barely peeked out of his fluffy hair, delicate almost, and Kyoutani recalled from the look he’d been given earlier that his eyes were more pink than red. 

“So what are you, the official tour guide?” Kyoutani asked, rubbing at his arms where they were still sore from the ropes.

Yahaba didn’t spare him a look. “No,” his clipped tones drifted back from where he continued his brisk pace. “I’m the chamberlain of the palace and his majesty’s secretary.”

“Which is a fancy way of saying what, exactly?” Kyoutani asked, hurrying to walk almost equal with Yahaba. “You’re a royal pencil pusher?” 

Yahaba’s eyelashes fluttered. “Kindaichi will be alright, by the way,” he said, voice cold.

“Who?”

“The guard you almost killed,” Yahaba said, sounding even haughtier than before, if such a thing were possible. 

“Oh,” Kyoutani said. He supposed that was a good thing. He never relished the lives lost to his blade when he lost control like that, and the guard had seemed a good enough sort, as things went. “I’m glad.”

“You ought to be,” Yahaba said. “If he had been more seriously hurt, Oikawa-san would never have let you stay here, no matter what sort of promise he may have made years ago. You’re lucky Iwaizumi-san showed up when he did.”

Kyoutani frowned. “That’s the person who stopped me? I’d like to meet him.”

Yahaba spared him an incredulous look at that and shook his head before coming to an abrupt stop by a door. “You already have,” he said, pulling out a key. “He’s the knight who came in with me earlier. I’m sure you’ll have a chance for proper introductions later. Now, this room will do well enough for you.”

Kyoutani chose to ignore the sneer apparent in Yahaba’s voice at the last as he pushed open the door and they both entered the room. It was small yet still much nicer than the rooms Kyoutani most often frequented, clean and full of sunlight from a large window that overlooked a courtyard.

“That man?” Kyoutani said as he looked around, thinking back. “But he’s just a human. Does he have some kind of special power?”

“He’s the strongest knight in the realm,” Yahaba said, throwing the shutters open to let more air in. “I’d think you wouldn’t be so quick to look down upon your own breed, human. Though I suppose having sold yourself for strengthened abilities, you must be invested in the belief that you could not have attained such brawn through natural means. Am I correct?”

Kyoutani bristled. “It wasn’t my _choice_ ,” he snapped. Like some demon courtier used to living in rooms like this one, that were free of the reek of a father’s vomit and only the pangs of a hungry belly to tide him through the long nights, would ever understand what it meant to be desperate.

“Well, inflicting your cursed state upon our people was certainly your choice,” Yahaba said, eyes flashing as he made for the door. “And any deaths you could have caused there, lives ruined, would that be acceptable to you as well, so long as you got to pursue the easy way out?”

He growled and could feel the beast welling up within him. Usually he was granted several days reprieve between episodes, but this time he hadn’t truly sated his bloodlust and it was still there, lying below the surface.

From how Yahaba’s eyes flicked momentarily to the sides of his face, Kyoutani knew the marks must have been growing, creating new corrupted patterns across his cheeks and jaw. Strangely, Yahaba did not seem afraid in the least, though Kyoutani could not sense the aura of power around him that accompanied grander demons such as the king.

“See,” Yahaba said, voice quiet but unchanged in acidity. “Just a few words that don’t attempt to cradle your feelings and you’re ready to take my head off.” He shook his head and turned away, dropping a set of keys on the small writing desk set below the window. “Privy is down the hall to the right and the stairs to the dining hall three doors past that. The bell tolls on the hour, and on days where there are not feasts, food is served at all bells between five and twenty-two. On days where there are feasts, which you are not invited to, you can speak to the kitchen about food being brought to you here.”

“Fantastic,” Kyoutani snapped when Yahaba went silent, waiting for an answer. “So I just wait here until they tell me what to do?”

“That’s entirely up to you,” Yahaba said with a shrug. “So long as you haven’t been given any duties by the crown, you’re welcome to spend your days how you like. I’d be careful about wandering too far in the castle, however. She’s not friendly to outsiders. Humans have a tendency to get caught in nasty traps here if they don’t watch out.” His grin was wicked.

“Delightful,” Kyoutani said. If this demon thought he was the type to tuck his tail between his legs at the first sign of trouble, he was sadly mistaken. “When do I get my sword back?”

Yahaba made a face. “That oversized joke of a blade?”

Kyoutani stepped forward menacingly. “My sword is not a joke, and I want it back,” he said, fighting for his calm. That sword was precious to him, his one indulgence. He had saved and scrimped, no matter how hard it was for a man with his particular problems to earn money, until he could buy the exact metal he wanted, in the amount he needed, and take it to the best swordsmith he could find. 

Yahaba remained unimpressed. “I’ll have it sent up to your rooms,” he said. “If that’s all?” Without even waiting for an answer, Yahaba turned, cloak billowing, and strode out.

Kyoutani took great pleasure in slamming the door behind him.

—

The next morning Kyoutani rose later than usual, as he often did on the days after the beast was released. He splashed cold water on his face and looked outside, watching demons and all sorts of other creatures wander the courtyards below. It was odd, to be surrounded by so many people, of so many different kinds. Some he had run across before, like lone demons or goblins, but others like the ogres and harpies he had never seen before. Even stranger were the non-humanoids, such as the elementals, unreadable masses of their various natures, or the dream eaters and chimeras.

When the castle bell chimed the ninth hour, Kyoutani followed the directions he had been given down to the dining hall, where he found many were still eating their morning meal. Long tables were laden with food of all different sorts from charcoal to blood to slabs of wax. Kyoutani found an area more to his human taste, with natto and rice, and heaped a plate full for himself there.

He ate quickly and silently, aware of the many eyes upon him. No one came to sit next to him, which suited him just as well, but he still could feel the suspicion aimed at him from all around the room, making the beast stir at the prospect of having to fight his way out. It was far better, he thought, to be in his room looking down at these creatures, rather than among them. Even in such absurd a collection, he was still the unfitting piece.

He waited in his room, trying to clear his mind, until there was a knock on the door and a bowing, nervous servant handed him a note with directions to a training yard. signed by Oikawa. When he arrived, he found not only the king but the knight Iwaizumi waiting as well. 

“Hello, Mad Dog-chan,” Oikawa said with a wave. “Iwa-chan and I have been putting a lot of thought into your little problem and just boiling over with ideas. I do so love a magical puzzle and you are quite the diverting little jigsaw, aren’t you?”

Kyoutani didn’t much fancy being entertainment to a demon but he needed Oikawa’s help, so he forced himself to grit his teeth and not lash out as he usually did to irritants. “Have you come up with anything?”

“I’ve come up with several things,” Oikawa said. “Some of which may even preserve your life! Oh, but you shan’t like the price for that, I’m afraid. You see, there’s simply no way to remove the beast that our dear fae friend created inside you from your regular soul without rending a rather large hole in you, one that you won’t be able to survive with for long. It’s too much a part of you. Perhaps if I had seen you right after you drank that wine… no, it may have been too late when you swallowed that first mouthful.”

“If you can’t remove it, what good _are_ you?” Kyoutani could feel the despair rising in him. He wanted the beast out, out of his body, out of his soul, and here this demon was telling him it was impossible, he was stuck. What had he even been striving for, if not for the beast’s removal?

“Ooh, losing your temper with me already? And we’ve only just begun!” Oikawa sounded genuinely delighted.

“Stupid Oikawa,” Iwaizumi growled, elbowing his king in the gut. “You make it sound so hopeless. Look, kid.” He nodded at Kyoutani. “Just because it can’t be cured doesn’t mean it’s going to run your life forever. That’s what we’re going to help you with, learning how to get your control back. You might even still be able to use your abilities, but harnessed under your own mind.”

“Of course, it’ll take a while to get right,” Oikawa said, hanging over Iwaizumi’s shoulder without a care for the armor between them, apparently not bothered at all about being scolded and elbowed. “And we’ll have to purposefully trigger the state in which you lose control while we work on it.”

Kyoutani chewed his lip. It would have been nice to have an easy answer, but he should have known life was never that kind to one such as him. Hell, after all he had done, did he even deserve what chance he was being offered? “What do I have to do?” Kyoutani asked.

Oikawa held out a fist, opening it to reveal a blue gemstone cut and set in silver. “This amulet will prevent you from losing control while you are on palace grounds. It will do well enough to keep you from accidentally murdering any of my subjects, something I assure you I do not look upon fondly.”

Kyoutani snatched the amulet with greedy fingers, turning it over. It didn’t feel like much, though definitely a fancy piece that would sell for enough to keep him in food and bed for weeks.

“Don’t think it’s a shortcut,” Oikawa had said as Kyoutani turned the pale blue gem over in his hands. “All it does is redirect the power for a little while, and it still needs to be released. Not allowing that power to eventually be released would be… costly, for you.”

“So don’t just run off and expect to be fine now that you’ve got this, got it?” Iwaizumi said.

“Understood,” Kyoutani said. “How does it work?”

“While both you and it are here, in the palace, or immediately outside it, it will act as a temporary barrier between the beast and your mind, keeping it contained,” Oikawa said. “You’ll need to release it for training purposes, of course. To do that, hold it between your palms and think of a time when you were completely at peace, then whisper three words that rhyme. Any words will do. That should keep you from releasing it accidentally in anger. Do not tell or show anyone else how to release it- I could not make it specific to you, and the damage that could be caused by someone else releasing it would be great. Understand?” His face was serious for once, the power in his words real. 

Kyoutani swallowed and nodded.

“Hooray! Let’s test it then, shall we?” Oikawa grinned, turning back into the glimmering fool he had appeared to be before. “First, I’ll activate it and we’ll have you try to let the beast go while the amulet is in effect, to make sure it is working. When we are sure it is, which it obviously will be, as I am the one who made it, then you can release it and start working with Iwa-chan.”

“We’ll be working on finding where you lose control,” Iwaizumi said. “And moving that line further and further back. The palace has all sorts of people, as you may have noticed, knowledgable in every area. This means we have a lot of techniques to chose from. We’ll start with dynamic meditation. Your fighting style seems pretty instinctive anyway, so this will also introduce you to some more traditional techniques. Just that might help on its own, since it will help draw a firmer boundary between you fighting and the beast fighting, but we’ll go with meditation as well.”

Kyoutani nodded again. He liked the way Iwaizumi spoke to him, no-nonsense but not unkind. He was clearly strong, to have taken down the beast so quickly and easily, and he even made Oikawa step into line, if only momentarily. Kyoutani decided he was the best person at the palace immediately.

They followed Oikawa’s plan for the morning. The moment the amulet was activated, Kyoutani could feel a difference. It was like a blue wall had been laid down inside him, cutting the beast off from his core. Even as it clawed at the barrier, it could not break through. Kyoutani knew immediately that it would work, it would keep the beast contained, but Iwaizumi insisted they test it anyway. Oikawa was smug when it worked and equally smug when, after releasing it for the first time, Kyoutani’s control slipped almost immediately, proving how vital Oikawa’s contribution had been.

Iwaizumi knocked him out with fast efficiency and Kyoutani came to moments later, the beast retreated and Iwaizumi ready for him to try again. And again. It was lucky that Oikawa had placed another magic on Iwaizumi’s sword, as he bragged needlessly from the bench where he watched them from, one that allowed Iwaizumi to knock him back into sense more easily than any other. Kyoutani certainly needed it often enough.

“Come back here in the morning, at the sixth bell,” Iwaizumi told him when they were done, Kyoutani too worn out to keep trying to regulate his mind while sparring. “I train some of the knights here then. We’ll work on you at the same time, it’ll be good practice for all of you.”

“Will they be…” Kyoutani was unsure how to finish that sentence. if he were a knight, he would be unlikely to want to face such an unpredictable creature.

“Don’t worry about them,” Iwaizumi said. “They’re knight of the realm, meant to be able to stand up to any threat. They won’t go noodle-kneed at the sight of you, or I’ll want to know why.”

Just as instructed, Kyoutani began to work with Iwaizumi and knights from sun up until midday meal, trying to wrest control back from the beast within him. The knights selected were all strong, though none a match for Iwaizumi’s raw power, but they were able to take care of themselves on those unfortunately frequent times he lost the battle within him. His worries faded.

For once in his life, Kyoutani felt like he might be feeling the beginnings of hope.


	2. Scandiaglio

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first chapter that will include some content warnings! If nothing about the E rating or tags concerns you, feel free to read on and you prefer to be surprised, but otherwise click [here](http://i.imgur.com/xzOtIQU.png) for where certain content begins and ends if you want to be warned or skip.
> 
> If there is anything you think needs a warning that hasn't been warned for, let me know and I'll add it.

Despite the circumstances surrounding his entrance into the castle, Kyoutani settled into palace life easily. He kept to himself as much as he could and for most of the day, the others seemed inclined to let him. There was only one terrible exception.

To Kyoutani’s increasing vexation, his training rapidly gained a regular audience. People came to offer cheer, jeers, and commentary from the sidelines as he worked, apparently with full trust in the knights to keep them safe when Kyoutani inevitably lost control over the beast and had to be contained.

The spectators ranged from random courtiers to visiting knights. The two guards he’d met, Kindaichi and Kunimi, came frequently to train with Iwaizumi and sometimes chose to watch him. Kindaichi did not seem to hold any grudge against him, though he was definitely nervous. Kunimi was harder to read, offering no words to Kyoutani that might help him gauge his thoughts even as he watched Kyoutani’s progress with sharp eyes.

The healer Watari stopped by at times as well. He was determinedly friendly to Kyoutani, and not just during training. He often chose to sit with him at mealtimes and let him know that, contrary to what Yahaba had led him to believe, the palace was not all that dangerous to newcomers so long as they were given a general map of the safe places to go, which he was more than willing to provide. It had a vast number of empty spaces and poorly titled areas, and Kyoutani got the feeling that it did not always match up quite with the distances he walked, but it was well enough to get him around.

Oikawa himself made time whenever he could to oversee the morning training as well. Whether he was more interested in watching Kyoutani or Iwaizumi, Kyoutani couldn’t say, but he frequently came by with his advisors like the dark mage Kuroo or the ambassador Futakuchi. The witch Kiyoko came only once, betraying nothing of her thoughts before leaving within the hour. 

Frustratingly, the most frequent onlooker was Yahaba. Almost every day he stopped by to speak quietly with those around Kyoutani if never Kyoutani himself, and then would find himself a perch from which to sit, sipping tea and going over paperwork as if he hadn’t clearly sought out where Kyoutani was training that day.

Whenever Kyoutani would look over, Yahaba would have his head buried in books, but he got the sense of being watched nonetheless. He wouldn’t even look up if the sparring was so close it ruffled his pretty hair, but whenever Kyoutani was focusing elsewhere he could feel a gaze hot upon the back of his neck.

Then, when Kyoutani lost control, which he always did seeing as that was the point of this training, to constantly be finding the line where his control ran out so they could keep track of their progress, he would come to with Yahaba clicking his tongue as he surveyed whatever property damage Kyoutani had made that day.

“One hundred gold pieces,” he’d say as he ran his hand across a stone bench now broke in twain. “I’ll add it to your debt.”

“At this rate, Kyoutani-san will be working it off for the next forty years,” Kindaichi had replied once.

Yahaba had merely sniffed.

In the afternoons, Iwaizumi patrolled with the knights, going to the closest border which was still contested. This left Kyoutani to his own devices for the rest of the day. Sitting in his room provided little in the way of entertainment, so he began to explore the castle, starting with the areas closest to his rooms and working outwards.

He kept away from places filled with people whenever possible, not wishing to deal with their suspicious stares or cold reception to his words. He’d more than had his fill of such reactions during mealtimes, making him actually look forward to the feast days where he could eat in his room.

Luckily, there were still many places in the palace left quiet and those were where Kyoutani spent his time. He briefly perused the grand library, astounded at how many books on every topic imaginable found their home in that wide hall, practically a wing unto itself. 

Finding himself intimidated by the number of thick tomes filled with lettering so small it made his head ache, Kyoutani moved on from the library to the palace’s high walls, where he could see out over the capital city and beyond, the Burning Forest in the north through which he has entered the country, the Jeweled Sea to the west and the Forgotten Plains to the south and east.

When he grew tired of the walls, Kyoutani began to seek out the numerous gardens that were maintained within the castle grounds, ranging from ornamental to more practical. He recognized many of the plants grown in those by the kitchen, herbs and easily grown vegetables, and some of the flowers in the the decorative gardens seemed familiar as well, but there were many more he did not recognize.

Some of the gardens had plants that were obviously both magical and dangerous, like the one filled with creeping black vines that followed Kyoutani as he tried to give them a wide berth, or the great tree that he swore had faces in its bark, all twisted in agonized screams. Some had frogs, so brightly colored they had to be poisonous, or snakes with multiple sets of eyes down their backs. He left those areas well enough alone and sought places that seemed more well disposed toward visitors. 

One such garden that caught his eye was tucked well away behind the servant quarters near the distillery, almost hidden entirely. It was small and enclosed by a silver gate, and everything of it spoke of calm. Unlike many of the other gardens, this one contained no riotous colors or neatly ordered specimens so far removed from their wild ancestors as to be a different species entirely. Instead, this garden gave the impression of one of the clearings Kyoutani had spent his time in as a boy, little pockets in the forest near his home with saplings and moss growing where it wished to, transported to the middle of the palace.

It reminded him of home, even if he had not had a home in years.

In the middle of the garden was a pool, water lilies floating across the surface with uninterrupted leisure, soft petals of his favorite blue reflecting the afternoon sun. Koi swam just below the surface, the water so clear that Kyoutani could make out their individual scales. They swirled in lazy circles as Kyoutani crouched down to take a better look. The bottom of the pond was covered in pebbles, all soothing grays and turned smooth by water, none larger than his palm. 

In the center of the pond there was a rock larger than the other. He frowned and leaned forward to get a better view. Was it truly a rock at all? It seemed strange, that he had thought it was, because when he blinked and refocused his eyes, he could clearly see that it was thin and flat, not like a rock so much as a plate, or perhaps one of those silvered glass pieces called mirrors that nobles used.

He reached out to the mirror but found it was out of his reach. He could just leave it alone, but now that he had noticed it, the object hung in his mind, filling him with a burning curiosity. What was it doing here in this out of the way garden? Was it really a mirror at all, or something else?

Before he even knew he had made a decision, Kyoutani was stripping off his boots and rolling up his trouser legs so he could wade into the water. The pebbles were cool beneath his bare feet and the koi wound between his legs, completely unafraid.

He bent when he reached the center. It _was_ a mirror, he could see clearly now, but not a normal one. It did not reflect his face nor even the blue sky crawled over with clouds. Instead, he could see stars and meteors, great celestial bodies that shone so brightly that Kyoutani could not resist them.

His fingers hit the water, not disturbing so much as a ripple in this silent garden. As he reached down to the mirror, the stars seemed to glow even brighter, calling to him. He needed only move a hair more and his fingers would be able to grasp the mirror, touch those stars.

Suddenly, something grabbed him by the back of his shirt and he found himself yanked back, flung with surprising strength out of the water. He fell to the ground, blinking the stars from his eyes as he glared up at the sun-backed figure that stood over him.

He made to rise and found the heel of a boot pressed squarely into his chest, pushing him down. His mind buzzed. He needed to get to the mirror. He needed to touch. He needed it, he needed it, he needed-

“Stay down.” The voice was curt and a part of Kyoutani’s mind vaguely registered it as one he knew. Something about it made him want to obey and the conflicting desires to remain as he was and get to the mirror warred within him.

His head throbbed.

There was a soft click and the interloper knelt down beside him, passing a small bottle underneath his nose. A noxious odor, like that of a chicken coop left boarded up in wintertime to fill with droppings and dirty feathers, filled his nose.

Kyoutani gagged and rolled over onto his side, coughing violently as his stomach heaved. His eyes watered furiously and he gasped for fresh air.

“The fuck?” he wheezed once he had his breath back, twisting back around to see Yahaba staring at him with narrowed eyes.

“Feeling better?” Yahaba asked, screwing the top back on to the bottle and slipping it into a pocket. His gaze roamed across Kyoutani’s face.

“What did you do to me, demon?” Kyoutani growled, doing his best to be intimidating with tears still fresh on his cheeks.

Yahaba’s brows arched high on his forehead. “I saved you, idiot human,” he said, standing and brushing his clothes. “As you would realize if you weren’t so strongly wed to the concept of being a fool.” He extended a hand down to Kyoutani.

As if Kyoutani would accept his help after such insults. He got to his feet himself, cleaning his face on his sleeve. “Oh?” he said. “And from what danger?”

“From what danger?” Yahaba repeated, pink lip twisting with derision and feigned surprised. He stepped forward, well past the point of proper personal space, and swiped his hand just past Kyoutani’s face, making him flinch back in expectation of some kind of blow. “Look again.”

Kyoutani did.

The garden was no garden at all, but a bare plot of land with only a single plant in the middle where he had thought the mirror was before, a small shrub with spiked leaves like a stinging nettle, but a sickly yellow color. Further in the distance he saw one of the other gardens he had marked down to avoid, the one with the many-eyed snakes, an open gate between. He had thought it was much further away, was this another time his map was strangely incorrect about distances?

“Dreaming Desiderurtica,” Yahaba said. “It shows its prey things to make them feel at peace and lures them close until it can entrap them. If you’d touched it, it would have sapped your life force. You’re lucky I was nearby, ah, accounting for the plants that died this summer.” His eyes moved furtively as he spoke the last, and had it been any other time Kyoutani would have called him on the obvious lie, but his brain still felt like it was moving in slow motion.

“But the garden…” he protested weakly.

“Was just an illusion,” Yahaba said and shook his head. “Honestly, if you have not yet learned that a mild appearance is no indicator of a mild nature, I doubt you’ll last here for much longer.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” Kyoutani asked, harsh in the wake of vulnerability. “If I were to get killed or have to leave? Though then I suppose I wouldn’t have a chance to pay off that debt you’re always rattling on about, would I?”

Yahaba’s look turned sharp, then blank. He shrugged, pointy shoulders hefted upwards in a pantomime of disinterest. “You vastly overestimate how much time I spent thinking about you, Kyoutani.”

“Do I? You’re the one who follows me about in the mornings, and stares at me all through meals. Do you think I haven’t noticed?” Yahaba’s eyes had gone wide, but Kyoutani charged on, reckless. Needing to feel less powerless. “You’re practically my shadow, I can’t be rid of you no matter where I go. If you wanted me to think you weren’t obsessed, you’ve done a poor job of it.”

“Watch yourself,” Yahaba said. There was tension in his frame now, his fingers of one hand worrying at the cloak sleeve of the other, but his voice was cool as ever. “You’re going black around the eyes again, monster.”

Kyoutani snorted. With the amulet from Oikawa, the beast couldn’t take control from him inside the palace walls, and Yahaba knew it. Still, he could feel it sharpening its claws against his willpower, an annoyance if not a danger, and he closed his eyes as he put his hand on the amulet, checking to make sure it was still in place and whole. The soothing warmth of it made him feel better. 

When he opened his eyes once more, Yahaba was gone.

—

The next morning, while he was eating breakfast, Kyoutani described some of the incident in the gardens to Watari. He’d meant to only say that he needed a more accurate map, but Watari pressed him so gently that Kyoutani found himself spilling the details before he knew what was happening.

“You ended up in the dreaming nettle garden by mistake?” Watari said and whistled. “Hoo, did you manage to wander out of bounds. That garden is tucked out of the way for a reason, you know.” He frowned and tapped his chopsticks against his bowl. “Though I’m a little surprised, that it would impact you so strongly…”

“It didn’t seem to effect Yahaba at all,” Kyoutani said with a glare down at his bowl. “Is there some trick to it?”

Watari shook his head. “Not- not exactly. The nettle’s a chaos plant, through and through, so for creatures with natures of chaos, like demons or the whorl snakes, it mostly doesn’t bother them or can even be a source of nourishment. I’ve never met a human who had as extreme a reaction to it as you’re describing, though.”

“Great, I’m a freak again,” Kyoutani said. “Tell me there aren’t more of those things hanging about the palace.”

“No, we only keep one,” Watari said. “Like I said, it’s a food source for the whorl snakes, and is an ingredient in some of our stronger painkiller tinctures. We mostly use other substances for those things, though, that one is really more of a relic from the days where we were constantly at war with some of the different fae kingdoms. Ah, maybe that’s it!” He snapped his fingers, looking pleased with himself. “Perhaps the reason you’re unusually sensitive is because of the fae curse on you. Fae’s natures aren’t muddled like humans, but are pure order. They’re extremely susceptible to the nettle.”

“I have a hard time buying the beast as being very orderly,” Kyoutani said with a snort.

Watari shook his head. “It’s about fundamental natures and their ability to change, how you interface with the magical world. Have you never studied anything about this?”

“Why would I? I’m no magician,” Kyoutani said. “I just kill things.”

“You ought to read up on it,” Watari said. “The nature of chaos, especially. As long as you live in the demon lands, mage or no, you’ll be impacted by how such natures play out.”

Kyoutani was about to ask why that could be so when a commotion at the high table, where Oikawa and his most trusted advisors or prestigious courtiers sat, interrupted them.

"Do you know what your problem is? You never learn from your mistakes!" Iwaizumi was saying, fist banging on the table and upsetting his goblet. "You're doing the same thing as always, and for the same reason!"

"I am not!" That was Oikawa, face pale and pulled into a pout, red eyes glittering. "Just because you would rather just sit around and let Shiratorizawa just-"

"If you think that's what I'm doing, you haven't been listening to me at all!" Iwaizumi scrubbed a hand through his hair. "I'm not saying we just let them walk all over us, but-"

"Gentleman, gentleman," Kuroo broke in with a smile. "Maybe we ought to discuss this further in private?"

"No need," Oikawa hissed, glaring down at his food. "Once Iwa-chan's made up his mind, nothing will change it, even if he's being an idiot."

"I'm trying to help you, you absolute asshole," Iwaizumi said.

"You can't speak to your king that way," Oikawa said, spine ramrod straight even as he still refused to look Iwaizumi in the face.

"Oh, silly me, here I was thinking I was speaking to my best friend," Iwaizumi said, slamming his chair back from the table. "I won't make that mistake again." He turned sharply and left the room, half his meal left on his plate untouched.

Oikawa waved his hand at the staring courtiers. "My apologies for that display," he said with a smile. "Please, return to your food." He shifted to engage in pointedly impassioned conversation with the ambassador Futakuchi, carefully not looking to his left where Iwaizumi's abandoned place settings were being hastily cleared away.

"And here I thought we were going to have a new record," Watari said. His words were light but he fiddled with his chopsticks uneasily.

"Are they going be okay?" Kyoutani asked as the regular buzz of conversation started up once more, slightly subdued.

“With some time,” Watari said, though he looked more worried than his words suggested. “Every few years, Oikawa-sama gets bad like this, from using all the chaos magic needed to rule to the demon lands and keep them in peace, until he gets so far gone that Iwaizumi-san has to take action. He goes off, rounds up some group of heroes or another to knock some sense into Oikawa-sama before anything worse can happen to him, then he comes back and it’s fine for another year or so.”

“What, Iwaizumi-san’s going to the leave the castle?” Kyoutani asked, forehead creasing as he focused on the part he understood. Iwaizumi was one of the few people in this ridiculous place he admired. One of the only ones worth listening to instead of tuning out. If he were to leave, who would he practice with?

"He'll come back," Watari assured him. "He always does. Those two could never be separated for long, not since they were children."

Kyoutani wasn't really interested in the backstory. He returned his attention to his plate, cutting of the conversation.

He saw the next day that his concerns were valid. Iwaizumi was gone, only a few words left behind for his knights. Kyoutani received a short missive telling him to behave and keep training.

There was a part of Kyoutani that wanted to view this as a sign, telling him it was time to move on. He didn't relish the idea of staying around in this place without Iwaizumi to keep the Grand King in check. But he had come here for Oikawa, so here he would stay.

—

Oikawa was more distracted after Iwaizumi's departure and Kyoutani's progress suffered for it. The other knights were to blame as well, none of them so sure in their dealings with him as they had been prior to Iwaizumi's absence.

Kyoutani was aware of other goings on in the castle, such as whatever was leading to so many whispered conferences between Oikawa and Kuroo, but he didn't pay it much mind. It was not his business, after all, and he had enough to deal with on his own. No need to press his nose into things that weren’t his problem.

Then came the day where all the knights were summoned before the king. Oikawa was full of restless energy, fingers curling on his throne armrests. His eyes were overly bright, so violently red that Kyoutani wondered if they might glow in the dark.

"We're leaving," he said abruptly. "Moving to a different palace."

"Why?" asked one knight.

"Secret reasons, that are secret," the dark mage Kuroo said with a mysterious smile, turning over the blue orb in his hands. Kyoutani had the strangest feeling that there might be something moving in there, almost like a tiny person.

"It will take time to prepare the court to move," Yahaba said. He had been in the hall already when Kyoutani had arrived, but seemed just as mystified by the goings-on as the rest of them. “And what about the festival preparations?“

"Tch, well," Oikawa said and shrugged. "Kuroo and I will go on ahead. And forget the festival, it’s not important.”

"Is it such a good idea to leave this place undefended?" Watari asked. “The reports from Datekougyou have indicated that their border with the Silence Realm is—“

"It's more important for us to move,” Oikawa said. "Anyway, we won't be leaving this place undefended. Some of the knights will stay behind, keep it safe. Mad Dog-chan, how good has your control gotten?"

Kyoutani tried not to flinch at the nickname. ”It's been slower going since Iwaizumi-san left," he said and watched Oikawa's eyes flicker.

"Ah, well," Oikawa said. "Then I suppose it'll be well enough for me if you stay behind. If you lose control, try to aim at our enemies, hmm?”

"He's not even a full knight," Yahaba argued. "He still causes damage to your property and has no sense of responsibility or-"

"In that case, why don't you stay behind as well and keep an eye on him?" Oikawa asked, voice icier than Kyoutani had ever heard it. He really had changed when Iwaizumi left, Kyoutani realized, or maybe his changing was what had set Iwaizumi off. If Iwaizumi was going to return to smack Oikawa back into normalcy, he couldn't do so quickly enough for Kyoutani's pleasure. “Maybe you two can even split the duties of looking after the palace’s heart, hmm?”

Yahaba's chin went up but he made no argument, perhaps just as aware as Kyoutani was of the futility of trying to reason with someone like Oikawa when he was in a mood.

"By your command," he said. "I'll go make preparations then, shall I?"

"Of course," Oikawa said. "I'll need a list of the most crucial staff you'll need with you. Oh, get Kyoutani's input too, would you?"

"Understood," Yahaba said. He walked past Kyoutani much as he had done on that first day, assuming Kyoutani would follow. 

"What's that all about?" Kyoutani asked as they entered one of the courtyards, Yahaba sighing and looking up at the sun. "I didn't think you usually got spanked by the king."

Yahaba wrinkled his nose. "Can you ever express things in a way that isn't so vulgar? Don't answer that," he said quickly. "And it isn't really any of your business, is it?"

"If we're going be working together then yeah, it is," Kyoutani said, sticking his hands in his pockets. "I need to know whether there's some reason Oikawa would be angry at you."

"Nothing that concerns you, I can assure you," Yahaba said. “I implied he let his chaos sickness run far too long unchecked and that it was affecting his decision making, so he ought to take a step back until Iwaizumi could return with help. And when he comes back to himself, he'll see that I was right.“ Yahaba ran a hand through his hair, carefully avoiding his horns, before turning to give Kyoutani a speculative look. He looked ruffled, and Kyoutani realized that he must be more off-tempo by Oikawa’s ire than he appeared, to have explained things so simply to someone he despised. "Well?" he asked.

"Well, what?"

"Do you have any preferences on who you want to stay behind? Anyone you feel less inclined to maim or murder?"

"I don't fucking care," Kyoutani said. "The only person in this whole place I respected is already gone."

"Fantastic," Yahaba said. "I'm so sad that we won't all be treated to your stunning management style, I can tell we'd be in for quite a treat there. The stuff of songs and legends."

Kyoutani sniffed and bit his tongue. Getting into a fight here would solve nothing, no matter how good it might feel. “What was that palace’s heart business?” he asked.

“Don’t worry about that,” Yahaba said, eyes flashing. “Even with him this bad, he wouldn’t put that on— Look, it’s nothing for you to worry over. Leave that to me.”

"I'll take my leave, then," Kyoutani said. "I'm sure we'll be seeing more than enough of each other in the days to come for both of us."

"Quite," Yahaba said, and they parted.

—

It took nearly two weeks for the court to leave. They did not go all at once but in stages, clearing out the castle a group at a time until only the barest bones of the staff remained. Kyoutani was not the only knight to stay, nor was Yahaba the only one of the courtiers, but none of the others were known to Kyoutani in more than the most passing of impressions.

With the loss of people came many more changes to palace life. The whole palace had been preparing for a winter festival, called Grand King’s Day, in honor of when Oikawa had united the last warring factions of demons under his rule, halting the fighting. Everyone had been abuzz about it, the music, the food, the fireworks show, the magical attractions. Now plans and supplies were mostly abandoned, set aside in storerooms. 

They no longer ate in the large hall, as there would be far too much space for the small numbers still present. Instead they ate in one of the smaller rooms, servants and nobility together. The seat of highest honor was scrupulously left empty by Yahaba, though were Oikawa still present, there was no way they'd all be able to fit in the room. It seemed foolish to have a chair destined to never be used just for a show of etiquette, but it seemed exactly the sort of useless expense Yahaba somehow found more acceptable than the cost of repairing the old window Kyoutani broke by accident.

The two did their best to avoid each other. Yahaba no longer came to watch Kyoutani's practice, hadn't since Kyoutani had called him out that day in the garden. Kyoutani still felt his eyes on him during meals, but he did his best to ignore it. It would be far too easy for a fight to cause complications in a palace suddenly turned both too large and too small.

Kyoutani had meant to continue practicing with the other knights in the morning, but he found that with the loss of all their leaders and Yahaba unwilling to step in on any issue regarding Kyoutani if he could help it, none of them wanted to work with him. He had no intention of sitting around waiting for the demon king and his knight to return, take pity on him, and deign to offer help again. He worked on his own, honing his swordmanship if nothing else. If he had to do so with a straw dummy whilst the other knights were out on patrols, so be it. 

For the first time in his life, Kyoutani realized he was feeling _lonely_. It was such a ridiculous thought, coming to him as he cleaned his sword after a day’s hard practice, that he actually stopped to boggle at himself for a minute. He’d been alone through so much of his life, ever since he and his father split ways, that being lonely seemed ridiculous.

Yet here he was. He’d gotten used to practice in the mornings with Iwaizumi, spending time with Watari in the evenings. Gotten used to having the bustle of the palace around him, hundreds of people of all shapes and sizes from huge dragons to pipsqueak will-o’-the-wisps. Now, without it, his life seemed quiet and empty. Most of those left behind were too intimidated by him, making sure to avoid even his gaze as he went about his routine.

Perhaps that was why he started seeking out Yahaba. He tried to play the fool to himself at first, telling himself it was just coincidence to pause his training for a water break when Yahaba went by the kitchens to go over the day’s menu, pure happenstance that he so frequently explored areas near wherever Yahaba was working that day, but he’d never been skilled at deception even when his only audience was himself.

Yahaba at least acknowledged him, even if it was with a curl of his lip and an affronted noise at Kyoutani’s proximity, or his odor, or his existence. And, Kyoutani thought with all the strength of someone used to self-justification, it was payback, for when Yahaba had been constantly in his shadow. He deserved to see what it was like, how annoying it was.

He wondered how long he could keep it up before Yahaba cracked and spoke to him.

It happened sooner than he’d thought. He’d been wandering, or perhaps lurking, by the scrivening tower, where messages could be written and sent or received over long distances by magic, appearing in blank paged tomes and wiped clean after being copied over. Yahaba spent a lot of time there — not that Kyoutani had taken any especial note of it, he assured himself. Apparently, running a palace took an awful amount of long range communications. 

Luckily for Kyoutani, it was also located right by the stables, a perfect spot for him to wait and ambush Yahaba on the way out.

He was pretending to be absorbed in sharpening a set of knives when the tower door slammed open and Yahaba stormed out, cheeks pink and practically sending off sparks of outrage. Kyoutani almost thought he’d be too caught up in his little bubble of fury to notice that he wasn’t alone before storming away, but to his surprise, Yahaba let himself sag against the wall, covering his eyes with the heels of his hands, digging them in viciously.

“Shit.” The word was so quiet Kyoutani barely heard it and for the first time he wondered if it might be best to beat a quick retreat before Yahaba noticed he was there. He wanted to see Yahaba get annoyed at him, not whatever private distress he was accidentally made party to like this.

Before he could make up his mind, Yahaba took a deep breath and lowered his hands, catching sight of Kyoutani where he was leaning against the stable. Pink eyes narrowed as they took in how Kyoutani was obviously watching.

“Enjoying the show?” Yahaba snapped as he straightened up, continuing without giving Kyoutani any time to reply. “You certainly seem to have a lot of free time lately.”

Kyoutani shrugged. “And you’re running around like a chicken with its head cut off, as usual. One of us should relax now and again, don’t you think?”

“Oh yes,” Yahaba says. “What a lovely strategy! You’ll relax, I’ll relax, Oikawa-san will just do whatever fits his fancy even if it causes a complete diplomatic upheaval, Iwaizumi-san will apparently run around in the woods with children, I don’t even _know_ what Kuroo-san is up to, army leaders deserting—”

“So not a lot of good news today, then?” Kyoutani asked, keeping his voice light. 

For a moment, Kyoutani thought Yahaba might take a swing at him. Then the moment broke and he made a sound that was halfway toward a laugh and sagged back against the wall. “No, not a lot of good news,” he said. “Honestly, you’d think having most of the court away would give me less work to do, not more.”

Kyoutani snorted. “You seriously need to find a way to calm down,” he said. “If even someone like me can notice that you’re flipping out, it’s not good. Trust me, if there’s one area I do actually know anything about, it’s how destructive losing your head can be.”

Yahaba rolled his eyes. “If only there were a magic amulet to make the stress of helping run a kingdom go away. Not all problems are so easily solved.”

“I’m not an idiot,” Kyoutani said, twirling the knife. “I’m not saying you need to find a way to solve your problems, just something to calm you down. I go for walks, or even better, spar with someone.”

“I’m not much of a fighter,” Yahaba said demurely, but his eyes were fixed on the knife. 

Kyoutani recognized someone wanting to be talked out of the need to be proper when he saw one. “Come on,” he said. “Don’t tell me you’re afraid of a little sparring. I won’t use my sword, if it bothers you.” He figured Yahaba didn’t have a weapon that could match his sword in reach.

Yahaba stiffened right on cue. “Fine,” he said, pushing off the wall. “No swords, no magic, no using your…” He flicked his fingers at Kyoutani’s face, presumably meaning the marks of the beast that still lurked by his eyes.

“Sounds good to me,” Kyoutani said, sheathing the knife he’d been sharpening and pulling out two of the blunt training knives instead. He held one out, handle-first, to Yahaba. For a second he thought Yahaba might back out, for his expression was odd and unreadable as he looked down at the offered knife, fiddling idly with his sleeve, but then he took it and motioned for Kyoutani to lead the way.

There was a training yard by the stable, one that was mostly left deserted now that the majority of the fighters were gone from the palace. Yahaba took one end of the yard, stripping off his white cloak and folding it carefully before setting it on one of the benches nearby. He lifted the knife Kyoutani had given him, letting it balance on one finger to check the weight distribution of it, before settling it into an easy reverse grip.

Kyoutani was a bit surprised. He'd expected Yahaba, a courtier, to instinctively go for a forward grip, something that mimicked the way one would hold one of the swords preferred by nobles like a rapier. The reverse grip was what he himself used with a knife, but to see Yahaba use it was surprising, and he wondered how much training Yahaba had, and where he'd picked it up from.

"Ready?" Kyoutani, raising his knife up.

Yahaba wiped some hair out of his eyes with his thumb. "By your leave," he said, something of a mockery in the respectful tone.

If Iwaizumi was here, he'd probably offer the advice to let an unknown opponent move first, gather information and use his head to plot out an attack. Well, Iwaizumi wasn't here, and Kyoutani had always found learning about his opponents by seeing how they handled the pressure of being placed on the defense to be well enough.

He struck out, utilizing the speed that had seen him through many fights. He closed the distance between them quickly and sliced hard and upwards, aiming for what would be a broad slice across Yahaba's chest if the knives weren't training tools.

Whipfast, Yahaba's free arm shot out, knocking Kyoutani's wrist up so that he missed and letting the force carry them past each other, twisting to put Kyoutani in a position where he couldn't use his knife hand, arm locked up.

Kyoutani growled and bent his arm, thrusting his elbow down and out so Yahaba had to jump back.

"I thought you weren't a fighter," he said, shifting back into his stance and frowned. Yahaba didn't do the same, merely straightened up. In fact, he hadn't taken a stance at the beginning of their fight either, beyond maybe shifting his weight a little to be more balanced. Kyoutani had thought it was just a lack of training, but Yahaba had reacted with the perfect answering block for the strike Kyoutani had used.

Yahaba shrugged. "I'm not much of one," he said. "Perhaps you're merely not as good a fighter without your behemoth of a sword as you think you are."

"Yeah, real believable," Kyoutani said, waiting to see what kind of attack Yahaba might follow that up with. Yahaba seemed content to stay mainly on the defensive, however, merely standing as casually as he might anywhere but on a battlefield. It bothered Kyoutani and he deepened his crouch, wondering if he could knock Yahaba off balance.

To his aggravation, this proved easier thought than done. Yahaba was fast, which was annoying, and his movements had the smoothness of regular practice. Then again, just when Kyoutani was content to decide that Yahaba must be lying about not being a regular fighter, he'd do something that was just plain bizarre.

It was his attacks, when they came. His defense was polished, practically flawless, but his attacks were slow, as if he were having to think instead of letting his body move itself in accordance with well versed patterns like he did with the blocks. 

Once in a while he would use that surprising quickness, but they were abortive movements, cut off almost as quickly as they began, and they were aimed at the strangest of places. Not toward any of those spots that were prime for attack by a knife, though he clearly had awareness of them because of how well he guarded. No, he seemed to slip into targeting places that would do almost no damage at all.

It was a puzzle, and Kyoutani had never particularly liked puzzles, especially not those that appeared in a fight. He wondered if he could wear Yahaba out, then maybe the bastard would forget to carefully hide whatever oddness was lying beneath his fighting style.

He set forth a series of blistering attacks, interested to see if Yahaba could keep up with the pace. At first he did so easily, but then he began to tire, his movement turning a bit sloppier, less coordinated. His strange errors, whatever their cause, came more frequently.

Kyoutani was smug to see the pants of exertion forcing their way through Yahaba's lips, the red in his cheeks no longer from anger but with effort. Most demons didn't show signs of strain so obviously, never turning damp with sweat, but Yahaba's human ancestry must have been stronger than Kyoutani had thought, for rivulets of sweat trailed through his bangs down his cheeks to drip off his chin.

There was something so strangely appealing about seeing a demon like that, or maybe it was seeing Yahaba like that. It made Kyoutani redouble his efforts to catch Yahaba off guard. He moved like lightning, never giving Yahaba a chance to get his breath back, pressing his advantage of stamina.

Yahaba had to keep giving ground, arms a blur as he shifted Kyoutani's attacks away from his core, but more and more frequently he was clipped by the knife on his clothes, his hair, places that would leave thin slices on his arms or cheeks if the blades were true.

Finally, the snap Kyoutani had been waiting for occurred. Yahaba displaced Kyoutani's cut with a block and snaked his dominant arm in quickly, not aiming for any of Kyoutani's major arteries at all but pressing the blunt edge of the blade against the meaty thick of Kyoutani's am. There was a flash of something like triumph in his eyes, which made no sense, but Kyoutani didn't have time to pursue it, hooking his legs around Yahaba's and sending him sprawling.

Kyoutani dove after him, grabbing his knifehand and forcing the fingers open, tossing the knife back behind them, out of reach. He slammed his own knife down, aiming for Yahaba's throat, but with surprising strength, Yahaba levered them up and over so that he was on top of Kyoutani.

He felt a press against his stomach, right below his ribcage and looked down to see Yahaba's hand, claws just gentle enough not to actually pierce his shirt and skin. Kyoutani's eyes widened slightly. Yahaba's hand was angled to slice up, under his ribs to where he could rip out Kyoutani's heart.

"My point, then, yes?" Yahaba asked, a smirk coloring his gentle voice.

"You have to have training," Kyoutani said, eyes shifting up over Yahaba's body, how he was crouched, almost as animalistic as Kyoutani could be. Theories buzzed through Kyoutani's head, trying to put these bits of information together. He'd started to wonder if Yahaba's bad offense was due to some fear of killing others, but he seemed perfectly at ease like this, positioned for one of the most brutal techniques a demon could use.

"That's not what you're supposed to say," Yahaba said, pressing his hand in. Now the claws did break the skin, Kyoutani could feel pinpricks of pain dotting his torso, flaring as he breathed.

"I yield," Kyoutani said and dropped his knife, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.

Yahaba's smile widened, fangs flashing as he pushed his claws in slightly once more before withdrawing, settling back so he was seated over Kyoutani's hips. "No need to look so put out," he said, voice practically a purr. "You and I both know that fighting without your sword and your cursed powers puts you at a significant handicap."

"The point of using blunt knives was so we _wouldn't_ end up bleeding," Kyoutani said, shifting up onto his arms. There was something weirdly mesmerizing about Yahaba like this, covered in sweat and dirt like a human but acting like a demon, lifting his bloody claws to his face to sniff at them.

Yahaba shrugged and ran his tongue over one nail, cleaning it of blood. "My nature got the better of me, I suppose," he said and licked another claw. "You're a lot healthier than when you arrived here, did you know?"

"You can tell that?" Kyoutani said, a twisting feeling in his gut.

Yahaba raised his brows, finishing the job. "I can tell all kinds of things," he said mildly. "But yes. Your soul was hideously out of balance when you arrived here, which is hardly surprising given that you had a monster shoved into it. It's getting better now."

"I could have told you that," Kyoutani scoffed, though he was secretly curious and a bit pleased that there was some concrete proof that the effort he was putting in wasn't being wasted, even if that proof was being translated through a demon sitting on him and tasting his blood. Speaking of... "So, is one of the things you can tell an explanation why you haven't gotten off of me yet?"

Yahaba actually laughed at that. "Really? I thought even you could tell that, Kyoutani," he said and shifted his hips back slightly, brushing against the hardness in Kyoutani's pants.

Kyoutani choked and glared. Sometimes he got hard during battle, loads of fighters did, but it was the polite thing not to point it out. They weren't personal, they were just a bodily reaction, but Yahaba was still moving his hips and it was getting harder to concentrate on that.

"Are you trying to distract me?" Kyoutani asked, thankful his voice managed to come out even and with some semblance of a vexed tone.

Yahaba smiled prettily down at him. "Do you want me to get off of you?" he asked, voice honey sweet. He brushed his fingers along Kyoutani's sternum. "Or do you want me to..." he trailed off, curling his fingers so his claws scratched lightly through Kyoutani's shirt.

Kyoutani growled and fisted a hand in Yahaba's tunic, yanking him down into a kiss that was more teeth than tenderness. Yahaba hummed and dug his fangs into Kyoutani's lower lip, sucking at the blood that welled up, filling their kiss with the taste of copper and cruelty.

Kyoutani wished that didn't make excited shudders crawl up his spine.

Yahaba's hands were everywhere, yanking at Kyoutani's clothes to reveal skin, sliding curls of sensation up and down his sides, across the muscles of his abdomen. They pulled apart so Yahaba could yank Kyoutani's shirt up and out of the way, leaning in to latch his teeth on the muscles of Kyoutani's shoulders. 

Not to be outdone, Kyoutani fumbled at Yahaba's tunic, finding and catching at the hidden ties. He was surprised at how much lean muscle Yahaba had hidden under his clothes, but he didn't have time to dwell on it when Yahaba re-angled so he could drive them directly together with each roll of his hips, even through the fabric of their pants still enough to steal Kyoutani's thoughts away.

"Mm, I wonder if this would be enough for you," Yahaba mused, letting go of the bruises he'd been intent on sucking along Kyoutani's collarbone to whisper hotly in his ear. "Just like this, could I make you come?"

"Fuck--" The answer was yes, because it had been an awfully long time and he'd never been used to much, but hell if he'd admit that to Yahaba.

Yahaba smirked and that was about enough for Kyoutani. Imitating Yahaba's move from earlier, he knocked Yahaba off balance and flipped them over. He grabbed Yahaba's hands, pinning them above his head and leaned in to capture Yahaba's delighted laugh with his lips.

He pressed down hard, glad to find Yahaba tipping his hips up just as needily as Kyoutani felt. He rocked them together a few times, sucking the taste of blood and salt from Yahaba's pliant mouth, learning what made him gasp and whimper.

"Not just this," he said between kisses. "More."

"Then get off of me, brute," Yahaba said, still sounding far too darkly amused for Kyoutani's liking. "I'm serious," he said, pushing at Kyoutani's hip with knee. “I’ll suck you off, but not if you keep getting the back of my head dirty."

Just to prove a point, Kyoutani flattened Yahaba out again, nipping at his jawline as Yahaba huffed indignantly before climbing off of him. When they weren't connected, he felt a creeping awkwardness settle over him, unsure what to do with himself, afraid that Yahaba might just laugh and leave.

Yahaba eyes narrowed quizzically as he stood and dusted himself off, looking at Kyoutani, but he didn't comment. He pointed at the stable wall. "Lean back against that," he said and Kyoutani hurried to comply.

He ran his hand against the woodgrain to ground himself as Yahaba dropped to his knees before him, somehow managing to imbue the motion with a gracefulness Kyoutani could never have managed. Kyoutani swallowed as Yahaba calmly started unlacing his pants.

"Is it okay if I--" he gestured at Yahaba's head, trying to think of a way to ask if he was allowed to touch, wondering if it was stupid to ask.

Yahaba blinked and smiled. "Go ahead," he said. "Don't worry, I'll let you know if you do anything I dislike." His smile showed off his fangs and Kyoutani had a moment to wonder if it was actually such a good idea to have a demon who clearly enjoyed the taste of his blood put his mouth there before Yahaba's tongue was moving over him and he gasped, hips jerking.

His hands flew down to bury themselves in Yahaba's hair, barely missing his horns, as Yahaba lowered his lips over him and shit, Yahaba was supposed to be some uptight court stooge, not someone who could show surprising skill with a blade and do _that_ with his tongue. It had been a long time for Kyoutani, longer than he cared to admit, but he didn’t remember anyone’s mouth feeling so hot or their tongue so _long_.

Kyoutani knew he should be keeping his hips still, had enough experience to know that was the absolute minimum of common courtesy, but Yahaba wasn't giving him a chance to recollect his control, sucking harder as Kyoutani thrusted. He pulled off for a second to gasp in a breath, hands coming up to pump Kyoutani in the meanwhile, rough jerks that were just on the edge of pain and pleasure.

“Pull my hair,” he said breathlessly before diving back down, taking him in just as fast as before. Kyoutani couldn't stop the litany of curses and groans spilling out of his mouth as his hips bucked wildly, looking for more of that heat, more of that pressure.

Yahaba pulled back slightly, enough to press the tip of one fang delicately against him, and Kyoutani jerked, remembered he'd been given an order. He tangled his fingers more thoroughly into Yahaba hair and gave an experimental tug, unsure how hard he ought to pull, and earned himself a pleased sound that reverberated around him. Avoiding Yahaba’s horns, he kept it up, experimenting with how hard he tugged,

It gave him something to focus on, which was good, and produced the most lovely, muffled sounds that he could feel through Yahaba's throat and mouth, which was even better. Yahaba didn't seem to have any objections to Kyoutani moving so long as he kept up pulling his hair, so Kyoutani let himself go, falling into a pattern of thrusts, letting Yahaba pull away to breathe or swipe his tongue against the head of Kyoutani's cock.

Kyoutani's orgasm took him by surprise, leaving him no time to warn Yahaba before his vision burst in gold and white against eyelids that had fallen closed when he wasn't paying attention and he was wracked with shivers of pleasure, spiraling through all his muscles and leaving him limp.

Yahaba pulled off, coughing and wiping at his mouth.

"I'm sorry, I didn't," Kyoutani said, still trying to remember how to talk. Yahaba waved him off, flapping his hand.

"It's fine," he said, voice hoarse in a way that send a deep prickle through Kyoutani. He looked up, giving Kyoutani that inquisitive look again. "You really aren't used to this kind of thing, are you?"

Kyoutani felt a pang and started hurriedly shoving himself back into his pants, wondering if he'd done something wrong, but Yahaba hadn't told him to do anything except the one thing he had followed, and it had _seemed_ like he enjoyed that, so--

Yahaba's hand pressed him back into the wall. "I wasn't complaining," he said. "Though I will be if you just leave." 

At the reminder, Kyoutani glanced down to see Yahaba's own erection was still tenting his pants. He swallowed a bit nervously. There was no way he could return the favor, not the way Yahaba had. "What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"Mm, stand there," Yahaba said, maneuvering him so that he was leaning back against the wall and he could straddle one of Kyoutani's thighs, undoing his pants only slightly so he could rut back and forth along him, hands digging into Kyoutani's shoulders as his eyes clouded.

Kyoutani shifted his hands around to Yahaba's back, thinking to help support him, but one slipped down so he was cupping Yahaba's ass and before he could draw back and apologize, Yahaba let out a frantic little moan and sped up. Kyoutani wet his lips and curled his hands more purposefully, shifting Yahaba's pace.

"Hah, good," Yahaba said and Kyoutani felt something in him stir at the praise.

An idea struck him. "You can bite me again if you want," he said and Yahaba went still. "I heal fast, because of the, well, you know. I don't mind." He tugged on Yahaba to get him to start moving again.

Yahaba tipped his head down until he could bury his head against Kyoutani's neck. He nuzzled into it carefully, inhaling deep breaths, making Kyoutani wonder if he was going to do it at all. Then he felt the first pinch of fangs, soft at first before turning harder, sharp pinpricks of pain that spread like a bruise across his neck, and then Yahaba's tongue was there, lapping and sucking greedily. Kyoutani could feel him twitch against his thigh as he urged him on and bent his head to give him more skin to work with.

There was something almost soothing about it, the way Yahaba rocked against him and the steady, dull pain in his neck. He could let himself get lost between those sensations, the tiny little noises caught in Yahaba's throat, the scratch of the wood against his back. 

All too soon it was over, Yahaba biting down on his neck and hips stuttering as he came. He leaned against Kyoutani for a few moments, panting heavily, before stepping back and running a hand through his hair to collect himself.

Kyoutani looked around until he spotted the shirt they'd discarded from him earlier and used it to wipe away the come Yahaba had left on him, scrubbing at the bit on his pants and feeling bad for whichever servant would be in charge of cleaning it.

"Well, that certainly was one way of stress relief," Yahaba said as he refastened his tunic. "Perhaps you had a point after all, Kyoutani."

"Perverted demon," Kyoutani said. "I really was only suggesting a spar."

"I know," Yahaba said, settling his cloak back over him with considerable care. He still looked debauched, hair messy and blood smeared over puffy lips. Kyoutani wasn't going to tell him. "You know this was just a--"

"Yeah, yeah," Kyoutani said, nodding. "Trust me, I haven't forgotten that you hate me. This was a one time thing, I know the drill." He did. Nobody ever had interest in spending more than a night with a strange, cursed warrior.

"Hm," Yahaba said, looking him over. "Your eyes are doing that thing again, did you know? I'm not sure when they started, I wasn't paying attention. Is that normal?"

Kyoutani shrugged. Any kind of excitement could rile up the beast, though with the wall up from the amulet he hadn't been bothered by it this time. "It's fine," he said. "It just happens."

"Try not to scare anyone in the castle with it," Yahaba said. "I'll be taking my leave then."

"Right," Kyoutani said, bending down to collect the knives so he wouldn't have to watch Yahaba walk away.


	3. Botta de Tempo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo, new chapter! Sorry for the slight lateness. Not sorry for the chapter content.
> 
> First of all, my dear friend made the most AMAZING map for this fic's world based on my scribbles. Check it out [here](http://darkmagicalgirlwrites.tumblr.com/post/129608785002/orlatwombley-final-haikyuu-quest-au-map-this) and shower her in praise! 
> 
> Also, more chapter warnings! Click [here](http://i.imgur.com/41xTQ7K.png) if warnings are your deal.
> 
> If there is anything you think needs a warning that hasn't been warned for, let me know and I'll add it.

In the weeks after their encounter by the stables, Kyoutani avoided Yahaba. He’d enjoyed the attention, it had scratched an itch deep inside him that he’d been ignoring for too long, but dealing with the fallout, the pretense that nothing at all had happened and the reality that nothing that mattered really had, was sure to wear at him. He thought it best for everyone to spend his time in a more useful way, practicing with the other weapons he could borrow from the armory or doing the drills Iwaizumi had taught him.

On an afternoon at the cusp of autumn, Kyoutani was swinging his sword in a wide arc Iwaizumi often used when he saw smoke rising from over the wall. It was a lot of smoke, unusually so, and it came from the direction of the Burning Forest, which normally gave off no smoke at all from its ever burning flames. He frowned and replaced his sword on his back. The smoke bothered him, not fitting anything he had seen before in the nearly half-year since he had arrived. 

A tingle of magic shot through him, making his bones shiver. The first of many shield spells used to protect the castle had been activated, one that enclosed the palace and capital grounds in a bubble of magic that would dampen any magic or sudden movement by those who didn’t wear the symbol of the palace. It was a spell easily set off from the guard posts by accident, especially with the greener knights in charge, and usually was cancelled nearly as soon as it had been activated, but combined with the smoke, Kyoutani didn’t trust that something more dangerous wasn’t afoot.

He climbed the wall to gain a better view. 

Just as he had thought, the smoke came from the direction of the Burning Forest, the natural flames unfortunately blocking out the source of the smoke. If he remembered correctly, though, that area was the location of one of the guard houses.

Kyoutani was about to head back down the walls, go to the stables and ask for a horse so he might ride out and investigate properly, when he saw a figure limping down the main road to the castle. The black of the uniform marked him as one of the knight guard, and the shuffling, half-falling gait meant that he was injured, coming from the direction of the smoke. 

Then, from the tree line of the forest, Kyoutani saw a disturbance in the air, a shifting swirl as if a great heat warped the very atmosphere only for it to be suddenly cleft in two and from the yawning opening came a torrent of white mist that consolidated into a mass of armored silhouettes. Kyoutani only watched for the space of a heartbeat or less, but in that time their number went from one, to two, to four, to eight, building faster than he could count. They stormed down the road, an army in an instant, and Kyoutani knew he had no more time to look.

Kyoutani twisted about, searching for one of the many panels that were placed along the wall that would set off an alarm. Even someone with no magic like himself could use them. As he was looking, a globe of gold and purple magic expanded from the center of the palace out, warm energy that felt faintly of Oikawa rushing over him. 

It was the second of the shield spells, activated because the first had been let to stand for a full three minutes. It had been explained to him that this spell would form a solid barrier around the outskirts of the surrounding city, preventing entry by anyone until it was taken down or shattered. The farthest most line of the barrier was marked out on the road by a strange tree that appeared to be at once wizened with age and yet still but a sapling, a type of magical tree that represented wisdom and, more practically, a good grounding point for area spells.

The wounded knight stumbled in his haste and Kyoutani felt his fingernails dig into his palms. He had never been good at numbers or figures, couldn’t tell how tall a tree was by its shadow or how long it would take two birds flying to meet, but it didn’t take a mathematical mind to realize what was becoming obvious.

The knight wouldn’t make it in time. 

He would be trapped outside the barrier, unable to enter its protection with the army at his back, ready to tear him apart.

The choice, and it was a choice, was made in a moment. The knight’s life would be forfeit, by all natural laws. He was too far from help, too wounded to get to safety. Kyoutani was the only one who could knew his plight, and no human would be able to make it to him in time.

Luckily, Kyoutani was not quite human, not for a long time now.

It was easy after months of practice to call up the beast within him, forcing it to listen to him. He let its power surge through him as he bunched his legs and took off, a mighty leap that catapulted him far longer and further than any human could reasonably jump. The ground cracked where he hit it, but he had no time to pay attention to petty concerns like that.

He ducked low to the ground as he ran, barely containing the impulse to drop to all fours like the beast wanted. The army was making headway fast, gaining ground on the knight with every moment and Kyoutani knew there was no way he could avoid a fight. They had white hounds that seemed made of smoke around the edges and moved quicker than a normal dog might, their teeth bared in the light.

He unslung his sword, cursing the circumstances. He had no armor, nothing but his sword and practice clothes. His amulet wouldn’t work while outside the palace grounds, but he couldn’t let himself give in to the beast. He would be just as likely to kill the knight he meant to rescue and take too much time besides, leaving himself trapped outside the barrier.

He’d have to play this fast and safe, not an easy combination for him at the best of times.

“Down!” he roared and the knight dropped, allowing Kyoutani to leap over him and swing his sword in a wide slash that sliced hard and true through the body of one hound. It split apart easily, bloodlessly, leaking only smoke in place of viscera. That was not all that strange, for Kyoutani was now quite accustomed to fighting magically constructed creatures, yet as Kyoutani swung his blade again and again, he felt himself becoming increasingly wary.

It was the sound, or the lack of it. Not a single one of the false hounds that leapt at him growled or roared, there were no war cries from the army. No thundering of hooves or boots upon the ground, no crackle of magic in the air.

There was only silence.

“Sir,” the wounded knight said around gasps. “The barrier—”

Kyoutani risked a look over his shoulder and rumbled a growl of his own. It was almost at the tree, they were almost out of time. With a last slash at the hounds, he twisted and crouched to pull the knight over his shoulder. As he prepared for another great leap, he felt a rush of air and teeth catch in his arm.

His jump was pushed off balance and they landed in a clumsy pile, Kyoutani barely avoiding slamming all his weight into the already injured knight’s body. He let go of him and rolled, forcing the hound that had its teeth in him to let go. The construct, blazing white where it was not now dripping red, backed off to eye him for a moment, still making not a single sound. It prepared to leap, jaws opened and ready to crush or tear.

Kyoutani would have none of it. His own arm shot forward, fingers curled like claws, and he had the thing by the throat as the barrier rushed over them, trapping them in and the rest of the army out. He bashed the construct’s head against the barrier, once, twice, sparks of gold and white vapor mixing in the air until the thing could hold form no longer and dissipated into the air. 

He had to close his eyes against the swell from the beast within him, still not close enough to the palace that his amulet would kick in. It roared through him, a thunderclap of rage and the need to hunt and destroy, to tear with teeth and claws and rend tendon from bone and flesh from limb.

He swallowed against the urge, breathing in careful, measured gulps and forced the growl back down his throat. His hand spasmed on the hilt of his blade as the beast fought him, once, twice, and then finally he had enough control back to open his eyes again, to take stock.

The rest of the hounds paced the edge of the barrier, not attempting to enter. That was a bad sign. If even the constructed hounds knew not to test the barrier, that meant they had been created under the assumption that they would meet such a barrier, which in turn meant the army most likely had some way to counter the defense.

The air was torn by the sound of chiming bells, so loud that Kyoutani would have thought he stood in a bell tower if he didn’t know better. The alarm spell, the one he had forgotten to activate when he had seen the knight, had been set off. Someone else must have seen them from the wall.

It was a rousing cry, a signal of alarm, and Kyoutani knew that with it the castle and surrounding town would descend into chaos as the remaining knights mobilized, the townspeople tried to evacuate to safety, and everyone prepared for the attack. 

“We need to get back to the castle, _now_ ,” Kyoutani said, turning back to the knight, who was still half collapsed on the ground. Blood dripped from deep gashes across his chest, down his leg. “Can you stand?”

The knight shook his head grimly, pulling off his helm to drink from a waterskin he unclipped from his belt. He had spiky brown hair and wide eyes, skin that possibly would be flushed tan if he hadn’t lost so much blood. As it was, he was ashen and pale. Kyoutani thought he had seen him around with some of the other guardsmen, but he wasn’t sure. “It’s alright, sir,” he said. “You already- you should get back to the rest of the forces—“

Kyoutani didn’t bother telling the kid where he could stick his self-sacrificing streak. He’d never had patience for that kind of thing. Instead, he grabbed on to the knight, slinging him back over his shoulder with more care than he had before, keeping his injuries in mind.

“Hold on tight,” he said and knew the boy would try to argue if given the luxury of time. He ran fast, feet pounding against the hard-packed dirt of the road to the palace. The beast snarled at him, telling him that such a retreat was beneath him, that he ought to stand and fight like a true predator instead of fleeing with his tail tucked close to his belly. He ignored it.

He could hear the chimes of the alarm growing louder and louder as they reached the palace, saw movement on the walls. The giant gates were in the process of being closed when he slipped between them, lowering the knight from his back.

“Healer?” Kyoutani asked one of the guards that looked less busy and was pointed back toward the kitchen where the remaining mages had congregated, a mess of robes and staffs. They were circled around Yahaba, who was doling out orders as calmly as he did seating assignments.

“Hold off on the elemental spells until later, only when you’re sure of your target and— Ah, so you’ve decided to return to us after all.” Yahaba turned to him with raised eyebrows, tone as acidic as ever, before his expression gentled as he switched his attentions to the knight Kyoutani was easing back to the ground. “Inuoka, still in one piece?”

“More or less,” the knight said, trying for a smile but staggering with fatigue. “Kyoutani-san saved me but— Yahaba-san, they came out of the nowhere, the guard station is destroyed and the rest of the patrol is…” He shook his head, face pale.

“I’m glad we got you back, at least,” Yahaba said and motioned forward one of the mages who Kyoutani guessed was a healer. “Shibayama, assess him and figure out if he needs to be evacuated or not. Kyoutani, with me.”

Yet again Kyoutani found himself in the position of watching Yahaba walk away assuming he’d follow and having no choice but to grit his teeth and do just that. He bounded after Yahaba’s heels, like some fucking trained dog, as the beast so helpfully reminded him. Well, he didn’t have to be happy about it, or even polite.

“I saved that kid’s life,” he snapped. “You could try not acting like I did you some great fucking wrong.”

Yahaba scoffed, leading him to the wall. “Yes, and while I’m sure Inuoka is grateful, the fact is that if you’d been off in your timing by a— by a single _second_ , we would be without our strongest fighter in the palace where he’s supposed to be leading our troops, not running off on lone rescue missions. You got yourself injured, you failed to set off any of the alarms to give us more time to mobilize before you went racing off, you acted entirely on your own. You’re supposed to be part of a team now, Kyoutani, you could at least pretend to be up to the task.”

“Well, my timing wasn’t off, was it? I’ve fought through far worse hurts than this. And the alarm spell was set off by someone else, so you got your warning and that kid got to keep his life,” Kyoutani said, voice rough with tension. He knew he was half upset because the beast was still clawing at him from the inside out, angry at losing an opportunity to fight, and that at least a small measure of truth was buried in Yahaba’s words, but at the same time… “Fucking hell, you really wouldn’t have cared if that kid had died, would you? You play nice, put on a good show of being this upright guy, but you’re actually just a—“

“That’s _enough_.” Yahaba’s voice practically crackled with ice as he whirled, pink eyes narrowing. “We do not have _time_ for this right now. Now either you _do your duty_ or I’ll be more than happy to relieve you of your position and have you put in the dungeons so you don’t get in the way while someone else does your actual job. So, which will it be?”

Kyoutani’s fists clenched so hard he could practically hear his joints creaking. They locked eyes for a long moment and Kyoutani could feel the beast battering against the wall of his control, unable to get past the amulet’s protections.

“Fine,” he said curtly. “What exactly would you have me do?”

“The frontline fighters are organizing by the gates,” Yahaba said, swiping hair off his face. Just as quickly as his anger had flare, it was wiped away, leaving nothing but a brisk focus on the matter at hand. “I’ll want you in the lead. Cut down their numbers as much as you can, but wait for them to penetrate the castle first, since with any luck the castle’s magical defenses will do most of your work for you. Let the archers on the wall pick off what they can manage before your charge.”

“What about the people living in the capital?” Kyoutani asked, mind racing to catch up with the quick jump in tone. “Won’t they be in danger? Could we bring them in to the castle walls?”

Yahaba shook his head. “Unnecessary,” he said. “The Silent Forces have a pattern and will attack the palace first, so bringing them here will only incur greater risk. There’s an evacuation plan in place, they’re already following it. We can focus solely on defending the palace.” 

“The Silent Forces?” Kyoutani repeated. He had heard of them before, of course. On his travels across the great Miyagi continent, heading for the demon lands, he had considered cutting through their country to avoid having to pass through the Dying Wastelands, but had decided against it based on the stories he’d heard, that no one who wasn’t a fairy entered their land to return. Although they had much less territory than the largest of the fairy kingdoms, Shiratorizawa, they were almost more feared due to their isolationist natures and lack of mercy.

They hadn’t been involved in any military or diplomatic matters in over a decade, since they’d been resoundingly defeated by the combined forces of the demons and Datekougyo on their east flank and Shiratorizawa in the west. Though they had been reduced from a huge empire down to a small territory and had kept to themselves since, people still spoke tales of their might in hushed voices. They had never struck with anything less than full force and they were meant to be a country away, past the land ruled by the Datekougyou Iron Council. If they were here…

“All the non-military personnel are evacuating,” Yahaba said, reading the expression on Kyoutani’s face. “But we’re not surrendering the palace without a fight.”

“You’ve sent word to the king?” Kyoutani asked. He didn’t even know how far away Oikawa had travelled with his court, let alone how long it might take him to rouse his full army and return.

Yahaba frowned and tugged at his shirt sleeve. “I’ve been trying,” he said. “But the have some spell that seems to be jamming the long range communications, all the scrivening books, the farspeakers… It’s odd, they haven’t done anything to the evacuation spells, which should be just as easy to block, but—“ He shook his head. “I’ve sent out messenger birds as well.”

The more Kyoutani heard, the more ill at ease he felt. This kind of situation had never been his style in the first place, sieges and armies pitted against one another. It was all a far cry from back alley brawls and the hired slaughter of merchants or lords with thick purses and quick tempers that had made up the bulk of Kyoutani’s experience before making it here.

He couldn’t quiet the churning in his stomach as Yahaba laid the rest of the plan before him, nor when they split apart, Yahaba heading up to the walls with the archers and Kyoutani to the gates. The other knights were looking at him with a sort of despairing hope in their eyes, all at once pinning their chances of survival to his sword and finding him lacking in comparison to who they must have dreamt of following into a battle like this.

There was nothing he could do to help that.

They could feel it when the barrier went, a shuddering sense that the very fabric of the air was rent by some sharp force, shattering the protection into glimmering gold pieces. There was a shout up on the wall and the sounds of bows being drawn, the shudder of magic use in the air.

“Wait for the signal,” Kyoutani said, readjusting his grip on his sword. He reached down into himself where the beast was waiting for him, drawing it up until he hit against the bright blue line the amulet had drawn within his soul, keeping the beast in check. Its power thundered through him but his mind remained his own. His sword trembled slightly, but not with fear. Anticipation. One way or another, the beast would be fed the mayhem it desired and had been so long been denied the past months.

There was no thud against the gate, no warning that they were about to fall. Instead, it seemed as if one moment they stood whole, proud testaments to the might of the demon empire, and the next they blasted inward, sparks and shards of stone ripping apart the air, only blocked by the quick protection spell of one of the demon knights. 

“Now!” Kyoutani shouted and dove forward, sword flashing in its pathway to bury itself in the heart of the white mage that stood in smoking wreckage of the gate. He went down, eyes wide, but two more were already coming to take his place. Kyoutani withdrew his sword with a sucking sound, the red of blood the only sign he’d gotten yet that these strange white creatures had insides just as fragile as the enemies he was used to fighting.

Time ran together, all too quick and yet captured in frozen moments. His sword, dripping blood onto the open neck of a fighter he’d just beheaded. The choked off scream of a demon knight when arrows pierced through his chest, the enemies tiring of his magical shields protecting their foes. Fire climbing up the walls, feeding on stone instead of wood and glimmering green in the sunlight.

They were pushed back through the courtyard, ground stolen minute by minute. Kyoutani set his teeth and dashed through the opposing forces, blade taking down two, three at a time, but for every one that fell to his blade there were two more white warriors ready to push forward.

A rope of light curled around his sword, tightening on it and halting his swing. The opening, slight as it was, was enough for his intended victim to slash out with her own blade and cut into Kyoutani’s side, making him roar. He yanked on his sword and the light held fast, but when he put more of his strength into it, muscles bulging, the rope snapped.

Yet, he had barely freed his weapon when another thick tendril of light wrapped around his torso, tightening until he could barely draw breath. He clawed at it and another rope curled around his arm, then another about his leg, his sword, his neck. They came faster and faster, too many for him to tear, lacing about his ankles so he fell to the ground and even then they did not stop coming, more and more light surrounding him until all he could see was white.

—

When his senses finally returned to him, Kyoutani found that for a second time, he was tied up in one of the demon king’s cells, sword gone. This time, however, he was tied with light instead of rope and his blood was dripping onto the floor, oozing from a multitude of wounds, many of which he had missed picking up in the adrenaline of battle, now far receded. One was a head wound, a burning feeling from his forehead, and the blood trickled over his eye.

There was a guard at the corner of the room, one of the glowing warriors from before, a hound construct at his side. The hound watched Kyoutani with the pure focus of a creature created only to keep him in place. Its stare grew brighter and more menacing when Kyoutani tried to shift up into a sitting position only to find that he couldn’t. He wasn’t sure if it was his injuries or the light, but he felt as weak as when he’d first had the beast put inside of him.

Kyoutani reached down in him to find the beast, hungry and waiting as always, only to discover that the beast slipped through his mental fingers as he tried to bring it forth. The harder he tried to grip it, the harder it fought until it slammed into the amulet’s barrier of blue light, and he was suddenly sure if the amulet were not still close enough to work, he would have lost control long before he regained consciousness.

The door clattered open as he lay in silent struggle, revealing more of the white knights. Although his positioning was bad to try to evaluate them, he could see that one of them was taller and much more grandiose than the others. There was an aura of power radiating from him, one even Kyoutani could feel.

“How long has he been awake?” Kyoutani couldn’t see the speaker.

“Not long,” the one who had been guarding him answered.

“Good. Get him up.”

A hand fell heavy on Kyoutani’s hair, digging into his curls and yanking him up into a kneeling position, jarring his wounds as he went. Pain flared through him, but even stronger was the humiliation. Kyoutani glared, biting down any cry he wanted to let out at the pain, and glared up at the Silent Forces before him.

They were strange, all white creatures, looking nearly as humanoid as the demons did, but something about them was just wrong, a strange prickling sense about the corners of their eyes, the length of their joints, the uncomfortably liquid way they’d move and then go perfectly still. 

The one he’d picked out as being the most powerful of them was not just tall but huge, most likely several feet over Oikawa’s height, yet thinner than any human or demon. His face was angular, hard planes meeting under papery skin, and his eyes were empty and flat, so that even when he inclined his head toward Kyoutani, he could have been looking at nothing at all. One of his hands rested on the hilt of a mean looking sword that hummed with energy, the other he tucked under Kyoutani’s chin to force his face up.

“If you tell us where it is, there is no need to make your death any more ignoble than it already will be,” he said. His voice was whisper soft, yet it buzzed in Kyoutani’s ears, building until it made his vision swim sickeningly. Kyoutani wanted to shake his head to try to clear it out, but the hand in his hair was still in a bone-tight grip, keeping him still.

“Fuck you,” Kyoutani said, trying to put a spiteful spin on the best glare he could muster with one eye caked closed from blood. “I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

“Disappointing,” the white fairy said, though his voice betrayed no emotion at all. He released Kyoutani’s chin and stepped away, letting another of his soldiers take his place.

“Torture, huh,” Kyoutani said, eyeing the warrior that stood in front of him now. He was shorter and broader, if not by much, and he didn’t have any weapons hanging from his belt. That meant he either preferred barehanded fighting, which would be bad, or he was a magic user, which would be really bad.

From the way the light that shone around all of the Silent Forces stuttered from a soft glow to a blinding shine, it would seem it was really bad.

Kyoutani closed his eyes on reflex, but color bloomed behind his lids as dry fingers pressed against his forehead. The buzzing from when the leader had spoken returned, growing louder and louder as lights flashed and spun against the black of his vision.

Tingles ran up and down his skin, turning sharper and sharper until it felt like every part of him was scraped raw, making the tiniest currents of air a blistering attack. His mouth filled with the taste of bile and blood, his ears roared, he tried to jerk away to find his muscles refused to listen, locking him in place.

Every part of him was turned into sensation, blistering light and heat, curling into the center of his mind where he thought he was safe and shattering his grip on reality. It shook his bones like an earthquake and roared in his ears as if he had stuck his head in the mouth of a dragon, burning and freezing him in equal measure until he could only shake and shake from it.

It went on, building far past the point Kyoutani would have thought, could he still think, that his body would have given out. 

Then it was gone, the fingers receding and the sensations turned to ash just as quickly as they had been summoned. Kyoutani heaved, held up only by that vise-like grip on his hair, noting dimly that there was much more blood on the floor before him than had been there before. How long had that lasted? Seconds? Minutes? 

“Tell us where the palace heart is,” the leader said when Kyoutani’s gasps faded. “You do not want to experience that again.” 

Kyoutani opened his mouth to tell him that whatever he were looking for was up his ass, but he found he could not speak, some force halting his tongue. He remembered what he had heard about how lies couldn’t be told in the presence of fairies.

The leader’s eyes crinkled in disappointment and he motioned the mage forward again. Kyoutani flinched back, even in the small amount of leeway the creature holding him gave him. 

There was a hard rap on the door and the mage paused, looking to the leader. Kyoutani took the time to inhale, trying to calm the noise in his brain, trying to come up with a plan to get himself out of here. He was sure, perhaps thanks to the beast’s inhumanly strong survival instincts, that he would not last more than a few more brushes with that magic. The way it filled up his senses, boiling his brain, he knew it wasn’t something humans were able to stand for long.

“You already started?” That voice made Kyoutani’s head shoot up, eyes widening as Yahaba entered the room. He was surrounded by the white warriors but unbound, unharmed save for a scratch along his cheekbone, under his left eye. The was blood on his white cloak, a spray of it as if someone had been slashed in front of him.

"Of course," the leader said, blank eyes swiveling to stare in Yahaba's direction. "We need the palace’s heart, or even this victory will not ultimately matter and all your information will be proven useless."

"You're working with them?" Kyoutani found the strength within him to force the words out, ignoring the pain in his head.

Yahaba glanced down at him, impassive and unimpressed. He shrugged his shoulders briefly. "I have no interest in dying for a king I no longer believe in. They offered me a chance. I'd be a fool not to accept."

"It is rare to find a demon so capable of sense," the leader said. "Perhaps it is your human side."

Yahaba smiled. “It’s hard to know such things, but surely seeking survival is a trait common to most species. May I check him over?" Receiving a short nod, he knelt down by Kyoutani and reached for his chin. 

Kyoutani flinched, he couldn't help it, and Yahaba paused a moment before continuing the motion, turning Kyoutani head to get a look at the wound still bleeding on his head.

"You bastard," Kyoutani hissed. "After all your talk about being part of a team, about your _people_ , and then you just throw it all away because you're afraid of--"

Yahaba's hand flashed out and he slapped Kyoutani hard across the cheek, claws digging in cruelly and ripping the skin. Kyoutani could feel new trickles of blood sliding sticky down his face.

"Be silent," Yahaba said, fury crackling in his pick eyes.

"He heals fast, for a human," the general commented. "You did not mention he was under a curse from one of our kind."

Yahaba lifted a shoulder, still looking over Kyoutani's wounds. "I haven't mentioned a lot of things, General,” he said, running fingers over a wound in Kyoutani's side, making him yelp. "We haven't had that long of a time to talk, after all."

The leader frowned. He might have looked petulant, were he any less grand a figure. "He must tell us the location of the palace's heart."

"That won't be so easy, I'm afraid," Yahaba said and rose to his feet gracefully. "You should have found an amulet on him, something blue and silver." One of the warrior held up the amulet and Yahaba brushed his fingers over it, looking away from Kyoutani.

"The amulet is connected to his curse?" the general asked.

"Oh, yes," Yahaba said absently and turned back. "You won't be able to get the answers you want from him, not using your normal method."

"His curse protects him." The general’s frown deepened. "No wonder the Grand King chose him to bear the secret of the palace's heart. He is aptly suited for the job."

Kyoutani frowned and grimaced when the motion aggravated the cuts on his face and head. His curse didn't offer any sort of protection from torture. He might be able to survive more, heal faster, but that hardly gave him any advantage in pain tolerance, nor in being able to stand up against the sensory assault these creatures used.

Then again, curse or no curse, he simply didn't have the information the Silent Forces wanted. He didn't know what the palace heart was, couldn't remember if he'd even heard the term before. Had he? It was so hard to think, the buzzing not yet retreating from his ears.

"I very much doubt Oikawa had this outcome in mind when he made the decision," Yahaba said. "That amulet allows Kyoutani to exert some degree of control over the beast, use its powers for himself. Without it..." Yahaba waved a hand. "Well, he was captured by our guards easily enough. Lead by a human, I might add."

"So without the amulet, he wouldn't be able to resist us," the general said. "Is there any tricks involved in breaking it?"

"There shouldn't be," Yahaba said. "Though I cannot be sure. I was not present when it was made."

Kyoutani watched, heart thudding in his chest, still held up by the creature behind him, as the general crossed the room to take the amulet within his thin fingers, turning it in soundless inspection. He _needed_ that amulet, it was what let him have any control, any semblance of—

The white general closed his fist, crushing the amulet as easily as if it were made of glass.

Kyoutani's sense of the difference was instant. The blue barrier, a constant companion ever since that spring day when Oikawa had given it to him, broke with a snap and dissolved. There was nothing between the beast and him now.

He felt sick.

If he brought the beast out now, he might be able to kill the warriors in this room. Maybe he'd get out of the room, kill more. But the beast wouldn't take care of his injuries, of how much blood he had lost. He didn't think he'd be able to fight his way out of the palace, not without the use of his mind. Surrendering his control would be a death sentence, but if he didn't do it now, he would most likely lose it involuntarily when the mage put his hands on him next.

At least letting the beast go on purpose was a choice, gave him something more of a chance. 

Kyoutani set his jaw, readying himself, when he saw Yahaba make a quick motion with his hand, bringing it up behind his back ever so briefly in a fist. The castle guard’s hand signal for _wait_ , flashed for just the tiniest moment, even with Yahaba partially turned away, not looking down at him. 

“It is destroyed,” the general said. “Our interrogation will work now, yes?”

“Can you wait just a few more moments, General?” Yahaba asked, bringing his hands in front of him to fiddle with his sleeve, the same nervous habit Kyoutani had seen many times before. “There are still things I haven’t told you.”

The general frowned and nodded as Yahaba approached, still tugging at his sleeve. “What more is—“

Yahaba’s hand moved fast, striking out in an arc. The general’s reaction was just as quick, a deflection to the side. 

It was only in that frozen moment that Kyoutani saw Yahaba had pulled a knife from his sleeve. A thin line of blood flowed from the general’s arm that he had used to block the attack, a shallow cut that had barely sliced the bony side of his wrist. The general grabbed Yahaba’s hand, avoiding the knife deftly and frowned down at him.

Kyoutani expected to hear the crushing of bone as the general used that powerful strength again, but there was no sound. The general’s hand spasmed, once, twice, and then his whole body shuddered and would not go still. His face contorted into a rictus of pain, dull eyes wide, as he stumbled back, releasing Yahaba’s hand.

Yahaba wasted no time in slitting his throat.

The other warriors were leaping for him immediately and Kyoutani assumed that this was as clear a signal as he was going to get. He reached within him and pulled out the beast, shivering at how quickly it sprung up to take control of his mind and body, but before he could focus on that, everything turned into hunger and hatred and heat.

His pain fractured, multiplied, yet he did not care. He had no sword, yet he did not care. He was weak, surrounded, closed in, yet he _did not care_.

With renewed, unfettered strength, he tore through his restraints and flipped the warrior holding him to the ground before him. Wide eyes, the scent of fear, a slash to his chest bright ragged and red with pain, all sensations were instantly savored and set aside as he drove the heel of his hand into the warrior’s nose, slamming through cartilage. He smashed him again and again, breaking both cheekbones, crushing into his eye, only stopping when he felt fingers close on his neck and his mind exploded in a fiery din of sensation.

He roared as feelings pressed in on him, pain building higher and higher, but it was suddenly cut off. He blinked hazy dots from his vision to see the mage fallen and Yahaba pulling his knife back. Their eyes locked and the beast hungered to rip his throat out, but then another white warrior slashed out for him and Kyoutani’s attention was diverted. The beast didn’t mind. It wanted to kill _all_ of them.

It had been so long.

He fought ferociously, with his fists and teeth, never pausing. He was only half-aware of the damage he was picking up, barely able to notice that Yahaba seemed focused on taking out the warriors good enough to harm Kyoutani. He moved quickly, efficiently, a knife in each hand. Most of the cuts he made were slight things, scratches and nicks, yet every warrior he took even a drop of blood from quickly collapsed, easy to finish off.

The room stunk of gore, warriors dyed red with it. The last one fell, a sword of his brethren that Kyoutani had grabbed lodged in his throat. Yahaba stood behind him, watching and when the fairy gave his last twitch, Yahaba sighed and folded his knives, blades disappearing into the handles.

He said something to Kyoutani, but the beast was still far too hungry to care. He dove for Yahaba, seeing the weaknesses in his form, imagining the taste of his flesh and Yahaba closed his eyes. Kyoutani stumbled, limbs growing heavy as if stones had been sunk through his blood. He couldn’t move, he could barely breathe.

Yahaba opened his eyes, looking pale. He said something else, lips trembled as they curved into some dark cousin of a smile, and reached out a hand to Kyoutani. Kyoutani did his best to jerk away, to move, to fight, but the weights had him steadily pinned. Yahaba’s finger’s closed gingerly on Kyoutani’s shoulder and he took a deep breath, tensed, and there was a swirl of magic in the air.

In the next moment, the two of them were gone.

They materialized in a forest, thick with greenery and the sounds of animals. The air tasted open and woodsy, a far cry from the metal and blood of the castle moments before. The light that filtered through the canopy of evergreen oaks was pure sun.

Yahaba stumbled back as soon as they appeared, pressing a hand to his face and taking heavy, gasping breaths. He seemed mostly uninjured but was shaking, sweat crawling down his face, mixing with the blood there. He closed his eyes, throat working to try to swallow.

The beast saw an opportunity and took it. Magic and teleportation aside, it knew Yahaba was weak now, that the heaviness had faded from his limbs. Kyoutani lunged forward and had his hands wrapped around Yahaba's throat in an instant.

Like a bucket of cold water being doused over his head, the weight was back. His hands fell, his back bent, his head bowed forward as he toppled to his knees, unable to withstand the pressure.

"I'm sorry," Yahaba said. He was speaking slowly, it was easier for Kyoutani to make sense of his words than before. "I can't switch you back, so you'll just have to wait it out. This forest itself bleeds an enchantment of tranquility. We’re safe here.” 

As the beast struggled against the weight, the feeling of iron in his blood, he could hear Yahaba breathing, pacing back and forth. His footsteps retreated and Kyoutani thought perhaps he was leaving, that the spell might wear off with distance, but there was no such luck.

The more he struggled, the more the weight ate at him. The beast grew angrier and angrier, his vision turned red. It wanted to fight, it wanted to cut and bite and slash and kill, yet it could do _nothing_. It was tethered to the earth, unable to fight at all.

When gentle fingers touched the back of his neck, he realized he had begun to growl, a thick low sound that had covered Yahaba's returned footsteps.

"I know," Yahaba said in a soothing tone. "But if I don't treat your injuries at least a little bit, you'll bleed out here." 

Carefully, hands wrapped around his limbs, moving slowly as Yahaba repositioned him to be sitting against a tree trunk. The beast's growls grew louder, it wanted so badly to be able to snap at the soft flesh so near his mouth, yet it could not move.

His vision went red and bright as Yahaba crouched down and began to work at his wounds and his struggles grew ever harder, though there was nothing to show for it. This went against everything, everything the beast was, it wanted to _kill_ , not have its wounds prodded at by its prey.

"Easy," Yahaba kept repeating as he went, tending to the cuts one by one. "It's okay, easy." He spoke softly, as if to pacify a wild animal. If Kyoutani could think, he would have thought that wasn't off the mark.

"That's as much as I can do, I'm afraid," Yahaba said eventually, leaning back on his heels. "I'm no hand at healing, but you won't die on me yet. There are some plants around here that can help with the pain, but you'll need to swallow them and I don't quite trust my fingers in your mouth with you like this, so it'll have to wait."

Kyoutani continued to growl, the words not fully sinking in. His mind was too fractured, too angry. 

Yahaba frowned and lifted Kyoutani's arm, pressing fingers to the pulse point on the inside of his wrist.

"You're wearing yourself out," Yahaba said. "If you sleep, you'll come back to yourself, I think." He sighed, looking over Kyoutani. "Not very likely, huh? But you need it."

Yahaba shifted, settling himself down next to Kyoutani and repositioned him again, now so that he was lying down, head in Yahaba's lap.

"Go to sleep," Yahaba said, voice remaining soft despite the order in his words. He brushed a hand through Kyoutani's hair and repeated the motion, softening his touch so that his claws just barely scraped against Kyoutani's scalp, not hard enough to hurt.

The beast redoubled its fight, growl intensifying as it panicked, unsure what was happening. Looking for the threat, looking for the fight.

"Easy," Yahaba said again, hand still moving. His other hand traced a pattern from starting from one of Kyoutani's eyes, following what had to be the lines of the beast's marking upon his face, grown completely now. "Easy. It's alright. I just need you to relax. I know that's hard to do, but I need you to try, alright? Even out your breathing, if you can."

If he were free to move, he would have his hands inside Yahaba's guts, pulverizing out his organs.

"I'm sorry I had to break the amulet," Yahaba said. The hand on Kyoutani’s face came to rest over his eyes, closing him into darkness. Still trying to get him to sleep. "I couldn't have fought out of there by myself and you couldn't have gotten free without using the curse's full power. Breaking it was the only way I knew how to buy us both the time I needed to set up a teleport spell. If I were better at magic— but I’m not.”

Even if he was still unable to focus on the meaning behind the words, the soothing tone of voice and soft strokes along his hair were starting to get to Kyoutani. He could feel true blackness creep along his vision, not just the shade from Yahaba's hand, could feel himself falling away. He was exhausted.

"And I'm sorry for telling them you were the keeper of the palace's heart. I know they hurt you, because of that." Yahaba's voice grew rougher and he paused. "It wasn't a well thought out plan, you can probably tell. But we're both alive, at least. For now."

Yahaba kept talking but Kyoutani's brain was filled with buzzing, a gentler sister of what he had heard before from the mage. His eyes slipped closed.

The beast slept.


	4. Riposte

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Chapter warnings, if you want.](http://i.imgur.com/S9xfKbQ.png)

When Kyoutani awoke, the first thing he was aware of was how absolutely terrible he felt. He hurt everywhere, it seemed, not a single part of him free from the pain. His fingers, his eyes, everything down to his last toe all felt battered and bruised.

The next things he became aware of only in their absence. Filled with pain, he let out a low keening sound, and the hand moving in his hair, the voice talking above him, the heavy weight in his blood, they all vanished.

"Kyoutani?" Yahaba asked, voice still quiet.

"...Fuck," Kyoutani managed to get out. His mouth felt like raw meat, it stung with every breath.

“Pain?” Yahaba asked and Kyoutani groaned in response. "Hold on, I can help with that." Carefully, he shifted Kyoutani off of him and stood up, making a small sound as he straightened out his limbs again. Kyoutani didn't know how long they had been there for, how long he had slept. It was daytime, at least, bright sunlight making his headache fiercer.

He closed his eyes as Yahaba moved around, unable to focus past the fire coursing through his body, searing his nerves. With the beast gone, with the adrenaline gone, he could feel every injury he'd sustained during the battle and they burned through him.

"Up," Yahaba said, helping pull him into a sitting position. He held out a handful of green shoots, plucked clean of any leaves or flowers Kyoutani might have used to identify them. "Chew and swallow."

They tasted bitter, even moreso going down, but Kyoutani did as he was told. He'd had to make do with enough back alley healings on the cheap to be grateful for any medicines that he could keep down.

The plants worked fast. It was not long before Kyoutani to feel the pain ebb, the tension in him ease. It still hurt, more than it should have given how fast he usually healed, but it was bearable.

"That stuff is strong," Kyoutani said and twisted to check what still hurt.

"I boosted the plant's natural analgesic properties," Yahaba said. "I'm good at that kind of magic, if nothing else. It's what I use on my knives.”

"Your what?" Kyoutani asked, rubbing his head. The smaller marks were gone, so he was healing, just slowly. He must have taken more damage than he thought, or perhaps whatever the mage had done to him took a more physical toll than he had given it credit for.

“My knives,” Yahaba said. He reached into his cloak sleeve and drew out one of the knives Kyoutani had seen him use before, though now it looked only like the handle, made of a pale material that looked rather like bone and carved in a language Kyoutani didn't know but had seen around the palace. He moved his hand just slightly on the handle. With a click, the knife unfurled, blade appearing. It was coated in some pale liquid, though not a drop escaped from it.

"So that's why they went down from only small cuts," Kyoutani said. "Poison, huh? 

"Well, venom would be more accurate," Yahaba said. The knife was small, the blade only the length of Kyoutani's palm, but it looked wickedly sharp. "I harvest it from the Whorl Snakes and boost it so that it works more quickly and intensely."

Kyoutani frowned. "Somehow, I'm getting the sense you aren't just some royal pencil pusher after all." He winced as he tried to stretch his arms up above his head, his ribs protesting. He rolled up his shirt to find that Yahaba had stitched together a nasty gash across his side.

"Don't rip that open," Yahaba said. "And I _am_ a royal pencil pusher. Or, I'm not, but only because I don't agree with you calling my job that. I just..." He closed the knife, flipped the handle over in his palm. "Before Oikawa-san brought me into his court, I was trained as an assassin. He still calls on me for that, sometimes. Not very often."

Kyoutani raised his eyebrows. He'd met hired killers before, hell, he'd even been one a time or two when he found an employer who didn't mind a little extra bodycount along with their target. "You don't really look the type," he said.

"That would be the point," Yahaba said. "I wasn't a _bounty hunter_ , Kyoutani, I was an assassin. A court assassin. Looking pretty and harmless so I can get close to a target is what made me effective." 

Kyoutani snorted, remembering how Yahaba had dealt with the general. "And your ability to lie," he said. "I thought it was impossible to lie to fairies but you had them wrapped around your finger, believing you betrayed Oikawa and all that."

"It _is_ impossible to lie to the fae," Yahaba said and shrugged. "So I didn't. As a species forced into honesty, fae that don't spend time around other kinds of beings have difficulty spotting deception. As long as I strung sentences together that were factually true on their own, I could lead them to false ideas through inferences and verbal slight of hand."

"So lying, but like, extra sneaky lying," Kyoutani said. "You're a real piece of work, you know that?"

Yahaba glared and then, impossibly, his frown broke and he laughed, a clear sound through the forest. "I am, I suppose," he said. "More fool them. They should have expected no less from a demon, even a half-breed one like me. I may not be able to properly use chaos magic or human spells, but I have no barrier between myself and trickery.”

"So what now?" Kyoutani asked. "They have the palace, but whatever the thing is they're searching for, they obviously couldn't find it on their own. Do we go to Oikawa?"

Yahaba's face grew serious again and he looked down at his hands. "They're looking for the palace's heart," he said. "And just because they haven't found it yet doesn't mean they won't. It will be difficult, she'll try to fight them for it, but they've got the numbers on their side and she can’t do much on her own.”

"What is it? And who is she?” Kyoutani asked. He got the idea it was supposed to be a secret, maybe, since it was worth torturing someone over, but he couldn't help but be curious.

"The palace is alive, did you know?" Yahaba said. "Not in the way that you or I am alive, but alive just the same. She has a spirit, a pool of energy. It's an enormous power, one that she uses to look after all the people within her walls, do what the king asks of her in return for his protection, her freedom. She’s a chaos creature, just like the demons, so she’s always lived in accord with us. But if they found that well of power..." 

“Lots of power, evil fairies, bad combination,” Kyoutani said. “Doesn’t take a master of court intrigue to figure that one out.”

“Exactly.” Yahaba sighed and rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Oikawa will know that something has happened, that the main defenses have fallen. Even if he doesn't get any of my messages, the magic that binds the king to the palace are too ancient to be corrupted."

"So he should be coming to help soon," Kyoutani said. "I mean, he hasn't gone so far off the rails that he would just let the capital city fall, has he?"

"No, no, of course not," Yahaba said, sure enough that Kyoutani believed him. Whatever chaos sickness might do to a demon, apparently it wasn't so bad that they couldn't trust Oikawa to help them. "But waiting until he gets here... it will take time, for him to rouse a proper offense against the fae."

"And they'll use that time to go after the palace's heart," Kyoutani finished for him. "And if they find it, game over, huh?"

"Pretty much," Yahaba said. “They won’t be able to use it like a demon could, of course, being creatures of order, but in some ways that makes it worse. What they would do with her, to turn her energies into the kind they could use…” Yahaba shivered and shook his head. “I know the palace, I know where the heart is, I was almost there when they caught me before and I was forced to improvise. If I can get to it, I can… By letting the power work through me, I can control the palace, have the very stones of it fight against them. Maybe not enough to drive them out, but I can keep them busy and protect the heart.” He took a deep breath and looked at Kyoutani. “I can't get in to the palace alone."

"So we're going back," Kyoutani said and rolled his wrist, feeling the joints settle. He had some favors to repay to the warriors he'd fought before. "When?"

Yahaba gave him a measuring look. "Can you walk?"

"You can't be serious," Kyoutani said, taking in the bags under Yahaba's eyes, how pale he seemed. Even his horns seemed more lifeless than usual and his eyes were practically muddy brown, not pink. 

"Time is of the essence," Yahaba said. "Every minute we waste, every solitary _second_ , is one that—”

"So your big plan is to storm the palace with two injured, tired warriors, one who had a curse on him he no longer can control and doesn't have his sword anymore, the other one who wore himself out doing magic and hasn't slept all night, taking on an entire army? What part of our situation would be improved by us both being tortured by those assholes?"

Yahaba's lip quivered and his forehead twitched, seemingly torn between outrage, exhaustion, and despair. "We have to do _something_ ," he said, sounding far more forlorn than fearsome.

"We will," Kyoutani said. "After we rest, which means you sleep, and we come up with an actual strategy that maybe won't end up with our organs being carved to pieces by some fairy general."

Yahaba wavered, fists clenched, but then the wisdom in Kyoutani's words seemed to sink in and he deflated. Curling his arms around himself, he settled into a more comfortable sitting position, staring down at the forest floor.

“How did they even get here?” Yahaba asked, more to himself than Kyoutani. “Datekougyou’s Iron Wall was built specifically to repel the fae. It’s kilometers thick of iron, how could they have…” He shook his head. “Even in the worst days, the palace has never been captured by non-demons like this before. Oikawa-san would never have—”

"Oikawa left the palace with only green knights and barely a fraction of the forces needed to defend a castle this size," Kyoutani said firmly. "And we haven't lost it yet. Not completely.”

"People died," Yahaba said, face bleak. "I tried to evacuate as many as we could, as soon as it became evident that we wouldn’t… After you fell. But many still died. Because of me, because of my decisions." The was a sheen in his eyes that spoke of tears, not quite ready to tumble out. “No one has ever died for me before. I’ve killed people but not… this is different. They died for me.”

Kyoutani winced, unsure what to say. “You did the best you could.”

Yahaba laughed, a pained sound that couldn’t be further away from mirth. “The best I could,” he repeated, a mocking edge entering his voice. Kyoutani didn’t think it was meant for him. “That’s right, isn’t it? I did what I do best. I lied, I faked like I knew what I was doing, and I pretended as hard as I could until— until people believed me. Until they died and the palace fell into enemy hands and the only thing I did that wasn’t a complete failure was getting the two of us out just in time for us to rush back in to fail and, if we’re lucky, die before we see them bring the kingdom down around our ears.” 

Kyoutani’s eyebrows had raised steadily as Yahaba’s rant had grown increasingly loud and strained. He waited for a moment as the only sounds splitting their clearing was Yahaba’s harsh breathing, so he could be sure he was done. “You’re pretty self-centered, you know that?” he asked, keeping his voice light.

Yahaba had been glaring at where the blood-stained toes of his boots met the forest floor, but at that his head shot up. “I beg your pardon?” he said, sounding so taken aback that Kyoutani would have laughed at him if his eyes weren’t quite so puffy and bloodshot.

“You’re going on like you’re the only one who could have changed anything, like everything came down to just you.” Kyoutani shrugged. “And you’re full of bullshit. Weren’t you the one who just said they must have found a way around the Iron Wall, which was made to defend against them? And the knights and stuff, you think that if you hadn’t been here they’d, what, not defend their home against an invasion?” He snorted. “Not everything’s about you, you know, and if you’d stop fellating your insecurities for a minute, maybe you’d see that.”

There was a silence as Yahaba digested his words and Kyoutani wondered briefly if he’d read it wrong. He’d figured Yahaba as the kind of person who sometimes did better with a kick in the ass than a pat on the head, but maybe he’d screwed it up.

Then Yahaba let out a long sigh. ”You must think me terribly weak," he said, sniffing angrily and dragging his hand across his face.

“Not weak,“ Kyoutani said, though he didn't know how much Yahaba would hear or believe him. "You came up with a plan, even under those circumstances. You put yourself in danger."

Yahaba laughed. "I put you in danger too, you realize."

"I'm used to that," he said. He wasn’t used to offering comfort to someone, wasn't sure how to go about doing so. He shuffled in closer to Yahaba, not so close that they were touching but enough that Yahaba could easily close the gap if he wanted. "I've been living with this curse long enough, after all."

Yahaba shivered and leaned in, a soft weight against Kyoutani's arm. "I'm sorry about your amulet," he said. "I'm sure Oikawa-san will make you another one."

"Yeah," Kyoutani said. "It's going to be rough to fight together like this, though. I'll hold off the beast as well as I can, but if it comes out I can't turn it back. That spell you used to stop me, can you work it again?"

"I should be able to," Yahaba said. Kyoutani could feel him nodding, the harder press of his horn moving up and down. "But it's complicated. I'm not good with magic, not anything except boosting plant properties. It would take all my focus."

"Leaving you open for an attack," Kyoutani said, trying to come up with a solution and finding only tiredness. Even having collapsed into sleep, he had not rested nearly enough to make up for how he'd been worn from the beast's rampage and his own battles beforehand. He'd need to sleep at least once more, probably twice before he could mount anything like an attack and have a chance of holding back the beast from instantly consuming him.

"What a mess," Yahaba said and Kyoutani grunted an agreement.

“Is he worth it?” Kyoutani asked when Yahaba fell quiet, staring at the ground and looking as though tears might be threatening him again. “The Grand King, I mean. You’re doing all this for him, aren’t you?” It was a guess, but one Kyoutani felt confident in, hearing how Yahaba said Oikawa’s name. How everyone said his name. “All of you, demons and humans and every kind of creature, putting your lives on the line for a king who wandered off when he felt a bit unwell.”

“You don’t know what it was like, before him,” Yahaba said. “Any demon ruler has to use a lot of chaos power, to keep the land alive, to keep the realm whole. But that much of the power… every monarch got sick with it, sooner or later, and destroyed themselves. The wars were unending, families ripped apart. He stopped that, him and Iwaizumi-san.”

“How?” Kyoutani asked. Talking about all this seemed to be drawing Yahaba away from his despair of before. “I mean, obviously he’s not immune to the chaos sickness, so…”

“No, he’s not,” Yahaba said. “It sickens him just like any other. But he was raised alongside humans, did you know? Him and Iwaizumi-san grew up together, in one of the demon cities that’s always had humans. When he decided to take the throne, they made a deal. Oikawa-san would protect the realm, and Iwaizumi-san would protect Oikawa-san, including from the chaos sickness. Find ways to bring him back to himself.” 

“And that makes up for when he’s not?” Kyoutani asked.

“He’s still him,” Yahaba said. “He’s still trying. Even now, with moving the court… I didn’t understand at first, but he took them to Kitagawa Daiichi, where he grew up. A place he knows Iwaizumi-san will always be able to find him, where he knows Iwaizumi-san’s words are most likely to reach him. Even when it gets this bad, he’s still doing everything he can.”

“I don’t really understand,” Kyoutani said. He’d never even bothered to be aware of which kingdom currently ruled over his home village growing up, since it rarely seemed to matter in the day to day. Much more important was fighting off creatures and raiders, not figure out which king currently was being bowed to in some city over a month’s journey away.

“He’s been king for almost _eight years_ , Kyoutani. Outside of legends of a time before we became so susceptible to this sickness, demons have never had the same ruler for so long. Never had so much peace.”

“So you all believe in him,” Kyoutani said, looking at his hands. 

“He’s our hope for the future,” Yahaba said fervently then smiled. “Though no, we don’t all believe in him. Enough of us do, but nowhere near all. Even I didn’t at first, until I met him.”

“And fell in loyalty at first sight, huh?” Kyoutani asked, imagining it.

Yahaba snorted. “Oh, not nearly. I was sent to kill him, actually.”

“Are you serious?” 

“Completely,” Yahaba said with a nod. “And I was rather offended at the wound my pride sustained by him not only capturing me but treating me with what at the time I thought was the most condescending of kindness. But now… He showed me a different way of living. I’d do anything for him.”

Kyoutani didn’t know what to say to that. He’d never had such an intense loyalty to another person, not even toward his father, except at a time when he was very young. The idea of it felt too huge and at the same time too constricting, he couldn’t make sense of it. They were silent for a long time and Kyoutani was almost sure Yahaba had slid into dreams already when he felt a shift against him and a hand tugged on his arm.

Yahaba's eyes were bright and searching. "There's a high possibility you'll die, whatever plan we come up with,” he said. "A very, _very_ high possibility.”

Kyoutani wanted to laugh, point out that he wasn’t an idiot and this was not his first near suicide mission, but Yahaba's serious expression asked more of him than that, and for once Kyoutani felt the need to live up to it. "I know," he said, voice soft. “He might not be my king but… I guess he’s my hope for the future, too, alright?”

Yahaba closed his eyes and nodded. When he looked up again, there was a different question in his eyes, in the way his gaze shifted down to Kyoutani's mouth and up again.

Kyoutani leaned in and their lips met. It was nothing like the time they had done this before, no reckless passion in sight, only the quiet gratitude for continued living, and the acceptance that such a state might not be granted for long. Their kiss stayed chaste for long moments before Yahaba softened even more, the last vestiges of tension that Kyoutani hadn't even noticed deserting him, and he opened his mouth, tentatively licking against Kyoutani's lower lip.

Yahaba's mouth was warm and he took care with his fangs, one hand coming up to cup Kyoutani's jaw, directing him so he could deepen the kiss. Kyoutani's hands felt clumsy by comparison, curling around Yahaba's arms, but Yahaba didn't seem to mind. Their touches were soft, cautious of cuts but gaining confidence as the heat of two bodies pressed together began to thaw nerves frozen by defeat. Yahaba's fingers carved into Kyoutani's flesh not with claws but caresses, trailing an inexorable path of warmth across his chest, making his head spin.

It was almost too much, the soft press of Yahaba’s fingers against him, the sweetness of his lips. It was intoxicating, but not in the way Kyoutani is used to, not like heavy ale pounded back but spiced wine sipped over the course of hours, spreading a slow heat beneath his breastbone through his chest, down his limbs, sending his thought swirling like smoke.

He was struck by the sudden urge to hide so he pulled back, burying his face in Yahaba's neck and breathing in the scent of him there. He could still smell blood and that, more than anything, grounded him, reminded him of where he was and what they had done, what they were facing. 

He licked at the juncture between neck and shoulder, tasting copper and greenery and desperation. The sound Yahaba made in response was quiet but gratifying, and Kyoutani found himself emboldened by it. He pulled Yahaba into his lap, arms encircling his waist.

Yahaba resettled himself, still careful of Kyoutani's wounds, and tipped Kyoutani's head up to meet his lips anew. He set an unhurried pace, content to kiss at the corner of Kyoutani's mouth, suck at his lower lip, slide his tongue tantalizingly close to entering Kyoutani's mouth before pulling away again. 

Kyoutani found that he didn't mind letting Yahaba take charge. In all the times he'd been with others, he'd never experienced something quite like this. He was always approached by the type similar to his own, rough and ready to prove it, mercenaries and murderers, or else by those wanting to be able to brag of surviving a fuck with the Mad Dog Knight. He’d taken to their tumbles with the heady vigor of one seeking to lose himself. Even his previous time with Yahaba had been a variation on that theme, all barbs and battle adrenaline. 

He'd never done something like this, where clothes were set aside with care and lips moved softly over skin, seeking tender spots. He'd never had someone splay their hands across the plane of his stomach like Yahaba did, dragging his hand slowly downward, making him wait for it, letting the want build in him and swallowing his moans.

He'd never been allowed to touch like he wanted to, hands stroking up and down Yahaba's sides, finding what made him gasp and close his eyes, head tipping back. Never been allowed to lean forward and fasten his mouth along that column of neck, tasting the salt of the sweat he'd brought forth.

He'd never had someone kiss him so gently as he took them both in hand, stroking them together. Yahaba's thin fingers entwined with his own, slowly driving them toward a building peak of sensation.

The sounds Yahaba made were quiet but plentiful, his movements edging into increasing speed as want turned to need. Words fell from his lips so easily, _yes_ and _just like that_ and _perfect, Kyoutani, you’re perfect_ and the praise made Kyoutani more lightheaded than any clever movement of Yahaba’s wrist.

It was soft, it was raw, and Kyoutani had a moment of fear as he felt his release approaching. There was something too vulnerable about this, too open. They didn't have this level of intimacy with each other, he knew that, it was the death around them, waiting for them, that was making it feel so deep, so much. It was an illusion, and it would shatter.

They might shatter with it.

But they might also die tomorrow, so Kyoutani shoved those thoughts away, let himself fall into the feeling of Yahaba against him, over him, all around him. The heat of his hand, the way his eyelashes fluttered, lips slackening. 

Kyoutani didn't know how long they balanced there, on the edge. He could feel himself coming apart, though the beast was so quiet, still too tired to make a bid for control now. It was frightening, it was comforting.

Then it was over, not in a rush but in wave that crested on and on, leaving him feeling wrung out and sated. Yahaba toppled forward into his arms, murmuring some kind of apology as he tried to pick himself back up.

"It's fine," Kyoutani said, tightening his hold around Yahaba's shoulders. "Rest. We'll deal with everything else tomorrow."

And, miraculously, Yahaba listened.

—

"You need to go over the plan again?" Yahaba asked.

Kyoutani bit down his retort. They had been over the plan well past the point of his having memorized it hours ago. It wasn't even that complex of a plan, there was no way he could forget it. But he knew Yahaba spoke mostly from nerves and so stilled his tongue.

"Let's get this over with," he said. "We aren't going to find ourselves in a better position just by sitting around jawing about it." 

Yahaba tugged on his sleeves, checking his knives where Kyoutani now knew were fastened by slight magic binds that would unwrap at a thought, sliding the bone hilts into Yahaba's palms.

"Right," he said, taking a deep breath. He held out his hand, concentrating hard. His lip went white where he bit it and sweat appeared on his face, making Kyoutani fear he wouldn't be able to complete the spell after all. He was just about to say as much when a small disc of darkest black appeared above Yahaba's hand.

He divided the disc in two as it grew, until he had two discs of shadow each the size of Kyoutani's palm. One he offered out to Kyoutani, the other he kept for himself. Kyoutani's fingers closed around the shadow, unsure what to expect, and found it felt warm and smooth. 

"Just think about where you want it to show, and it should respond," Yahaba said. "Within the distance limits, of course."

Kyoutani had argued that Yahaba shouldn't use any magic during their infiltration, since it wore him so, but Yahaba disagreed on the case of this particular spell. Although it exhausted him, it was too useful to be left aside.

Their discs acted as a second set of eyes, able to peer around corners, through walls, show what was ahead or behind of them. Yahaba's version could only cover a distance of a few meters, but apparently powerful demons like the king could view across kilometers. It was no wonder he enjoyed so many military successes. Even with the less powerful form of the spell, they could at least cut down on the chances of turning a corner into an enemy conclave, of falling right into an ambush.

"Ready?" Kyoutani asked.

Yahaba squared his shoulders. "Not even remotely," he said and focused on the disc cupped in his palms. Kyoutani could see a flicker of movement, the guard standing by the castle's servants entrance to the kitchen getting ready to be relieved of duty by a second guard.

Yahaba moved quickly, tumbling across the hay bales they were concealed behind with a practiced move, staying low as he raced to the guards. Kyoutani was a breath behind him. As Yahaba took on the first guard, knives in his hands without Kyoutani ever seeing them slide down, Kyoutani grappled with the second, holding him back until Yahaba had the first one down in the grips of his poison.

He sliced the second guard as mercilessly as the first and shifted his hands so the spell disc, which had followed after him, was back in his hand. 

"The kitchen's empty," he said. "Get their uniforms off." Then he was gone, opening the kitchen door and disappearing into it.

At least the fact that Yahaba could get in meant that the palace's heart was still free from capture. Yahaba had explained that so long as it remained free and in his care, as Oikawa had put it when he'd left, Yahaba couldn't be truly locked out of any door in the castle. 

Kyoutani was methodical about stripping the bodies of their army. It was fairy metal, strangely heavy despite appearing thin. He pulled all of it off the dead guards before dragging their corpses off to the side, where he could hide them in some of the storage crates.

Collecting up the armor, Kyoutani checked his own spell disc to see what was happening in the kitchen. All he had to do was think of wanting to see and the disc swung around from hovering hidden in his shadow to flutter over his hands, darkness melting away to show Yahaba in the kitchen.

Kyoutani tried the door and found it unlocked now to him as well. He went in, finding Yahaba just as he had seen through the spell, leaning over a large pot where he'd been mixing ingredients. Kyoutani could make out a bag of powdered starch, now empty. Yahaba nodded him over to the table where Kyoutani could set out the armor.

"You first," Yahaba said.

He needed Yahaba's help getting the armor on. It was strange, not meant at all for someone with his proportions, but finally they got him strapped in. Then Yahaba dipped his hand in the thick, white liquid he had created and smeared it over Kyoutani's exposed skin, painting it until it was as white as any true fairy's would be.

The final touch was flour, dusted into his hair to turn it from blonde and black all the way to white. 

Yahaba stepped back to give his work a critical look. "Well, you won't fool anyone up close," he said. "But from a distance? You'll blend in well enough." He frowned and grazed his fingertips against Kyoutani's cheek, just under his eye. "You were right about the markings shining through the paint," he said. "It's not bad now, but if they grow too much, they'll stand out."

"I'll do my best to keep calm, then," Kyoutani said, knowing that wouldn’t work for long. Not with him still so tired. It did no good to dwell on that, though, they just had to make do. “Your turn."

They repeated the process, Yahaba dressing as one of the Silent Forces, completing the disguise with paint and flour to turn him white. 

Finally they were ready, pulling on the gauntlets and settling the small helms the fairy's favored on their heads. Yahaba could not make his settle over his horns, also painted white, so he had to do without. Kyoutani was glad to be able to rest his hand against the hilt of a sword, even if it were a thin, small thing, lacking any of the character of his own blade.

"That's it, then," Yahaba said and checked on the sun's position. “Ninth bell," he said. "I'll be in place then, or close enough."

"Understood," Kyoutani said. He wondered where they might be keeping his sword. What did fairies even do with captured supplies? He hopes they hadn't just thrown it in with the rubbish, deeming it too ugly to be used by their weird standards. Perhaps it was in one of the armories. He hoped so. He'd be passing by several.

"No getting distracted," Yahaba said severely.

"I'm not a fool," he said. "I'll do my job, don't worry."

Yahaba smiled, just the smallest quirk of his lips. "I'll be counting on you, then."

Kyoutani nodded and wondered if they ought to do more before they separated. This seemed the kind of moment where heroes in ballads kissed or made great declarations of eternal devotion. Neither sounded like the kind of thing Kyoutani could pull off.

“Ninth bell," Yahaba repeated and left the kitchen, not looking back.

The next part of the plan would be the most difficult for Kyoutani, if only because stealth did not come naturally to him. He was always the type to kick the door down rather then slink around the back and if he exited somewhere through a window, it was generally because he was being thrown out than making a furtive retreat. Sneaking across the palace to the other side of the keep was not exactly a task he was prepared to tackle at full confidence. Still, the plan depended on him being able to avoid detection, so he had no choice but to try.

Carefully, he crept down the hallway, keeping the map of the castle fixed in his mind. Yahaba had drawn him up a new one in the dirt of the forest floor with leaves and pinecones standing in for various traps and landmarks.

It was far different from the map he'd been given before, much more detailed. It showed miniature hallways built in to the walls for the use of servants and secret passages known only to those Oikawa trusted most. Yahaba had revealed them to him so that he had a better chance of getting through the palace undiscovered.

The first entrance point to such a passage was two turns off of the kitchen, where a stairway had an entrance housed between two statues of dragons. One was a large, terrifying looking creature, stone flame pouring from its throat, while the other was a delicate thing, curled up in a loop with its tail tucked over its snout.

Kyoutani approached the smaller dragon and gently stroked along the ridges of its spine, three times as Yahaba had said, then went to the larger and proffered his hand. With a rumble of rocks churning together, the dragon shifted, sniffing him.

The dragon nodded and went still again. The smaller one let out a marbled sigh and shifted, curling in tighter and tighter until it was so small that a passageway could be seen behind it.

"Thank you," Kyoutani said, unsure how sentient these things really were and deciding that politeness never hurt in being freely offered. He ducked around the statues, stooping to fit into the hallway.

As soon as he was in, a grinding sound and the disappearance of light informed him that the dragons had hidden the passage from sight once more. It was cramped, and dark, but Kyoutani found he didn't mind. At least here he did not fear having to be seen.

Setting his mind back on the map, he hurried through the passageway. He came across many turns off, ones that let out on palace rooms and halls, but he did not take any of them, he needed to go further. 

Finally the path turned upwards, a sign that he was getting close. He had to crouch to fit, and he wondered at who had built these pasageways, for surely they wouldn't fit in a full sized demon with horns protruding tall from their head.

Small bits of light filtered in to the passage as the incline grew steeper. 

Using the disc to check for soldiers, he exited the passage and into the main halls. He had to remind himself not to creep but to walk stiff and straight, so as not to blow his cover if anyone caught sight of him moving through the windows. 

It was in and out of secret passageways after that, moving through the palace as quickly as he could. He passed by the armories, resisting the urge to look inside for his sword and risk the numerous guards standing by seeing him, and finally made his way to the first of his many stops, in one of the palace store rooms where planning for the Grand King's Day was underway.

He found what he was looking for there and more besides, filling a number of bags with supplies. Then he was out the door and heading toward the distillery. Several times he was glad of the time they had taken in creating a disguise, as several halls opened up onto courtyards where he could see enemies, but they didn't give him a thorough examination, seeing only the white of his skin and the armor and dismissing him from their minds.

It was by the main servant's quarters that he first encountered a problem. He had sighted patrols on his spell disc before, but they were easily avoided by taking a slightly longer route or just waiting until they moved on.

This group, however, made up of four fairy knights, were stationary and directly in his way. He needed to get into the armory they guarded, the one Yahaba had assured him was the smallest and so likely the least secured. There was no way to circle around them, not that Kyoutani could remember from the maps, and he couldn't take the time to try to puzzle it out.

Keeping an eye on the spell disc, he set the bags down with care not to make a sound and slowly unsheathed his ill gotten sword. With a long inhale, he steadied himself, his control over the beast. At least it was still tired, worn from fighting against the spell Yahaba had used to subdue him. 

Then came the moment to act and Kyoutani did not hesitate, dashing round the corner already slashing out, catching the first guard before they even realized his presence. The warrior went down, white skin carved red, and Kyoutani pressed his advantage with another stab through a gap in the white armor he had noted when he'd dressed in it.

It was hard to pull his sword free and he barely had time to get it up to block the downward strike of one of the two remaining guards. His arm trembled and he missed his own sword, which could deflect so easily and have fangs left besides. It worked with his natural way of fighting, instead of forcing him to call upon training and trickery.

Bending his arm, he slid his sword down the length of the other, forcing them in close where he could grab his opponent with his free hand, twisting them around so that the last guard's strike skidded harmlessly off his ally's armor. Then he kicked out, knocking the warrior he was entangled with to the floor and letting go of his sword so that he would not be taken down with him.

Instead, he flung himself at the standing guard, a headfirst charge that he knew no cultured enemy would expect, that sent them crashing into the wall. He despaired of the noise, knowing he needed to end this quickly and get out of here, even as he dug his nails into the weak points of the warrior's hand until he reflexively let go of his blade.

Kyoutani claimed the sword for himself and wasted no time in running his enemy through before turning to finish off the last guard with a quick blow as he tried to regain his footing. Grabbing the bags, he dared not take the time to hide the bodies or even wipe clean his sword before he hurried into the armory and grabbed what he needed, wondering how much time he had left. 

Finally he made it to his destination, the halls overlooking the courtyard of the castle's distillery. The Silent Forces didn't have guards posted by the door, having deemed the place unimportant. That made Kyoutani's job easier. Quickly he dropped his bounty from the armory and jumped out of the window, landing in front of the distillery itself. The door was unlocked, perhaps left that way from the sudden evacuation or the fairy’s initial search. 

Kyoutani slipped in and set about his task. He was careful with his placement, trying to cover as broad an area as possible. Luckily, he'd been able to grab ample supplies from the store room.

He was putting the finishing touches on his project when the bell chimed out, making him jump. He counted the rings, getting to nine. Yahaba would be ready to make his move, now it was Kyoutani's turn to create an opportunity for him.

He left the distillery by kept the door open, leaving a trail of powder he had taken out of one of the caps in his wake. When he felt he had put enough distance, he pulled out the flint and steel from his pocket, striking them together to make a spark.

He watched the flame slowly eat its way up the line of colored powder that crossed the courtyard, sputtering and growing at the points where he had let more or less slip through his fingers, until it disappeared inside the distillery.

He plugged his ears.

The explosion was enormous. At first all he could hear was the roar of flame, all he could feel was the blast of heat. It was a tremendous noise, a tremendous heat, shaking the ground. The alcohol in the distillery took to the flame with gusto, providing more and more fuel, allowing the flames to leap.

But the true highlight of the destruction was not the alcohol but the supplies Kyoutani had so diligently transported from one side of the castle to the other, from the storerooms used for the discarded preparations for the Grand King's Day celebration.

A celebration that always featured a fireworks display.

They must have made quite a spectacle when set off in careful patterns meant to wow and entertain. Blasted off like this, all together with no care spared on beauty or showmanship, they created a fireball in the sky almost the full breadth of the courtyard. 

His ears still ringing with the explosions, Kyoutani surveyed the destruction he'd wreaked upon the castle. Ashes rained down as more went off. The air was filled with sparkles and colors, rainbow flashes against the plume of smoke. 

A great hole was eaten out of the buildings, where the distillery had stood, like a giant had taken a bite from the castle, leaving smoldering debris in his wake. Tiles rained down from the sky, no longer fixed to their brethren. 

As the destruction grew, fire reaching to wooden structures nearby, Kyoutani turned to run. He couldn't hear the kinds of shouts he might expect after an explosion of this magnitude, but they were the Silent Forces, after all.

He had no doubt they would be coming this way, many of them. There was no way they could ignore this, many if not all the warriors would read this as a sign of much bigger attack than what could be carried out by a lone man.

Which, in a way, it was. Because, of course, Kyoutani's purpose was not to blow up a building the fairy forces had no interest in, but to draw their attention. Move them to a location far from where Yahaba was headed, give him an opening.

Then the real attack could begin.

Of course, Kyoutani had to keep it looking convincing. Now he could dash to a vantage point above the wreckage, the same spot where before he had left his gains from the armory he had burgled. 

He grabbed the crossbow he had left there first, set his rather unusual missile in place. He had to time this right or risk himself, but it was worth it. Kyoutani had never been a good hand with a bow and arrow, but the crossbow was easier to aim and, besides, by using a thin firework instead of an arrow, he didn't need to hit true.

Lighting the tail when the first shadow came into view, Kyoutani was firing by the time the warrior who cast the shadow entered the courtyard. His missile struck the ground before him and lay for a few seconds, the knight looking down on it in confusion.

Then it blew in a roar of white heat. A burst of cascading pink stars tore their way across the stone tiles and through the white warrior. He fell to the ground, red mixing with the other colors, but more were already coming to take his place.

Kyoutani fixed another makeshift bolt in place and sent it off lit, then another and another. Explosions tore the air as the fireworks went off, dazzling displays of deadliness that ripped apart the warriors unlucky enough to be in their unpredictable paths. Rotating circles of red and white, weaving clusters of yellow and orange, bursting and crackling as they went.

Warriors streamed into the courtyard, more than he could take out, and he knew it would not be long until they sighted him from his perch. He ducked down from the window when he had but one firework left, waiting. He had left one last gift of this kind behind, and he wanted to make it count.

It was hard to wait, hard to breathe the smoky air and smell the tang of blood and destruction while staying clamped down on the beast's impulse to dive in with tooth and claw. Staying so far from the center of the fray was not his style, frayed his instincts, but he gritted his teeth and bore it until he could take the beast's pressure no more.

Then he stood, taking aim across what was now quite a crowd of warriors, knowing they would see him as clearly as he did them. He closed one eye and loosed his last firework arrow.

As soon as it left his crossbow he ducked, barely missing being hit by a blast of white light that blasted open the wall around him, shattering all the windows of the hall he hid in. 

But his arrow found its mark, heading straight to the bag he had left full of some of the biggest fireworks he could find, hoping they would be the most destructive. The bag caught and as the smaller missile exploded, it set off a cascade inside that bag.

It was a sound like he had never heard before, a hideous rending of the air. It was like the sun had suddenly come down to earth, so bright was the light that poured out from the courtyard. He turned back to see sparkles and ribbons of light twirling through what was not smog and a red mist of blood. 

He was running before the smoke cleared, to get to another vantage point, another spot to cause mayhem from with his bag of tricks. But before he could make his way past the hole in the wall, a tendril of that same white light that had caught him before lashed around his ankle, yanking him out of the hall and down.

He slammed into the courtyard, already torn up from the explosions he had set off. He felt some of that debris cut into him as smoke filled his lungs and vision, making his eyes smart. 

Kyoutani realized quickly that if he could not see through the smoke to see his opponents, the same might be true of them. He was linked to at least one, however, through the very magic that had toppled him off his feet so easily.

Twisting his ankle around the cord of light, he pulled hard on it, feeling something struggle at the other end, giving him a sense where his captor was hidden. Pulling a war hammer from his bag, one of the sturdier weapons sure to have survived the impact, he hurled himself at the enemy.

He landed on his opponent with a crash and set about bashing with the war hammer, striking at everything that moved beneath him until it moved no more. 

The light dissolved in its grip around him, freeing him, but now that he was down in the courtyard it was hard to tell which direction he ought to go in. He set off mainly at random, hoping to find the edge of the courtyard at least.

He wasn't sure how long he stumbled in the smoke. Acrid air burned into his throat, making him woozy, ashes surrounding him. The colors that sparkled through the clouds twisted his senses, leaving his dizzy and disoriented..

Often he stumbled across enemies. Some were fallen, other stumbling, but all he was able to dispatch with a few blows. Just as often, though, they landed some hit on him, and the taste of blood filled his mouth, pain flaring over his body as he dragged himself onwards.

He began to cough as he reached a wall and pressed along it, searching for a way out. The smoke was clawing into his chest with every breath.

When a fresh batch of warriors came upon him like that, trussing him up in light was easy. They took him down with barely any fight, and as he looked up at the stars swimming over his head, visible despite it being the day and him having been dragged back under a roof, he could only hope that he had bought Yahaba enough time.


	5. Stoccata

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Final chapter! Warnings are [here](http://i.imgur.com/eF2VS5L.png).

As Kyoutani stood in the hallway surrounded by the Silent Forces knights, he wished he could listen to the guards speaking, potentially overhear them talking about if they had caught another intruder, but they were as silent as their name.

The minutes passed in quiet tension, the fairies so still they might have been statues, until as one the group surrounding him swiveled their heads to face down the hall of the servant's quarters where they had bound him. Though Kyoutani could hear nothing, he was not surprised when another figure in their regalia appeared there.

This one was enormously tall, like the general that Yahaba had killed, but otherwise he did not so closely resemble the other fairies that had taken the palace. His face was angular, as were all of his kind, but his eyes were swirling colors instead of still emptiness, colors Kyoutani had never seen before and knew were not meant to be processed by human eyes. His posture was slightly slouched, his bearing more insidious than inanimate, and yet there was something about him that spoke of that same endless capacity for implacability. 

Yet what stood out most to Kyoutani was not the differences between this fairy and the others, the oddness of his appearance, but instead the weapon slung over his back, going to almost his knees.

He had Kyoutani's sword, strapped to him as if it were his own.

Kyoutani wanted it back.

It was hard not to release the beast then and there, so badly did he want to take back his blade from this interloper. He knew if he did, in this situation, with these injuries and enemies, he would likely be signing his own death warrant. He needed to keep his wits with him, needed to be able to reason out his best chance for survival and escape. It was only the thought of that, and the hope that in his capture he might yet be of use as a distraction for Yahaba, that kept him from losing himself then and there.

Just as the general had done before, the new fairy put his hand beneath Kyoutani's chin to force his head up, shifting eyes boring into him. Kyoutani felt sick, looking at those colors that should not exist, that were not meant for eyes like his to see, but he refused to look away.

The fairy broke into a smile, revealing a mouth with no teeth. 

"I knew it," he said. "When I found out about a fighter who could become like an animal, who escaped after brutalizing some of the best fighters, I said to myself, that sounds like some of _my_ work, doesn't it? And I was right."

"The fuck are you on about?" Kyoutani asked when the fairy lapsed into self-satisfied silence.

"You were the little boy who drank my wine," The fairy said, grin widening to reveal only more gums, blue and slick. "I granted a boon to your father, that blessed fool who let me out. Tell me, did you kill him, when you first changed?"

Kyoutani flinched. He had not killed his father, not that time or any other, but he had hurt him badly, that first time, before his father learned to buy teleportation charms and get out of the way when it started.

He knew all of that, and fairies couldn't lie. If he said he was the one who had put the curse on the wine, who was responsible for letting the beast into Kyoutani's soul where it ravaged his life, then he was.

"Sir," one of the other warriors said. "He's the one the half-demon said knew the location of the palace's heart."

"The same half-demon that disappeared from the cells without a trace?" The fairy's eyebrows, already high on his face, leapt even higher. "I don't think we should assume he was telling the complete truth."

The strange fairy released Kyoutani's chin and stepped back, long legs taking him across the courtyard and back as he paced thoughtfully. Then he smiled again, tapping his chin.

"Of course, we can't rule out the possibility that he does know something about it after all. I suppose we'll just move forward as if he does know, and see what leads that brings us." 

"Shall we send for an interrogation mage?" one warrior asked, shifting where he held the main cord of rope that connected to all that bound Kyoutani, like a leash. “They’ll make him talk.”

The fairy snorted. "Those butchers? The second one gets their hands on him, he'll lose control and our chance to find out anything will disappear. Or he'll just give out and die, which is no better. No, humans require a more delicate touch than that."

He crossed back over to Kyoutani and pulled the sword off his back. Kyoutani tensed, watching his precious weapon, his longest and truest companion, be swung around like some trophy.

"You like this sword, don't you? An interesting choice of weapon for someone like yourself, really. Inelegant, of course, but surprisingly sentimental, isn't it?" He slid his finger down the middle of the blade. "This metal comes from the mines near your hometown. This design, if not at this size, was favored by the army your mother fought in before her death."

Kyoutani gut clenched. How had he known all that? He never talked about that to anyone, not even the smith he'd had make the sword. He'd given few specifications and provided justification for none of them, yet this fairy knew everything behind his decisions.

"Your hometown wasn't completely destroyed all those years ago when you first lost control, now was it?" He smiled, not showing his gums. "Let's propose a little deal, then, shall we? You tell me where the palace's heart is, and your hometown stays safe and sound. You don’t tell me and, well… I’ll finish what you started there.”

Kyoutani felt like he was floating outside his body. He had never gone back to his village, never, not since that awful day where he'd slain not only the wolves but half the people he knew as well. He sent money back, from time to time, knew they had rebuilt, were doing better.

He couldn't bring disaster down on them again.

He swallowed, remembered what Yahaba had said. He couldn't lie, not directly, so he had to focus on not making clear statements. Use words with double meanings. Think in loops and swirls instead of straight lines. 

"It's faster for me to show than to tell," he said, hoping his long silence would be attributed to shock instead of taking the time to find a way to lie. That was a nice, general statement. Actions had always come easier to him than explanation, and he'd mentioned no specific topic. Maybe he could do this.

The fairy's eyes narrowed but he nodded. "Make it so that he can walk," he said to one of the mages.

The light binding him shifted, pale tendrils moving across his body until his legs were free. Each of his ankles were caught in individual loops that were connected by a short rope of light, hobbling him neatly so that he couldn't do more than shuffle. He glowered.

"Lead on," the fairy ordered, sounding amused. "Ah, but first, tell me where we are going, and tell me that the palace's heart is there?"

Kyoutani had to think quickly. No lies. True, unconnected statements.”I’ve never actually been to the palace's heart in person," he said. Not a lie at all. "I'm not actually the keeper of it, Yahaba is." Unfortunate he had to reveal that much, but it was necessary to sell the next part. "But I can guess where it is, from his behavior. I ran into him in one of the gardens nearby once, where no one was supposed to go and he lied to me about his reasons for being in the gardens. So I can't say for certain that the heart is there, but now that I know more, I can make a pretty good guess about why he was there." 

Not a single lie, nothing that caused him to have to stop speaking. The other fairies seemed more than willing to buy his story, but they weren't the ones who concerned him. The new fairy, the one who had cursed him, he knew about trickery. He had been a mercenary, had been among humans and demons. He was the one to fool.

"Hm." He tapped a long, stick-like finger against his chin. "Very well." He waved his hand, ushering Kyoutani forward.

As he shuffled out of the hall, the warriors falling into step behind him, Kyoutani felt his breath quicken. He wasn't sure if he could pull this off, but he couldn't think of any better plan.

He led them from the servant's quarters, away from the ruined courtyard and distillery. He had walked this way often, when he had been exploring, back during that brief period where he was concerned mostly with having time to kill.

Even looking it, he almost missed the silver gate where it was tucked back out of the way, so well hidden by the buildings that it was nearly impossible to see.

"Through here," Kyoutani said, lifting his chin since he had no hands free to point. As one of the warriors stepped forward, he hoped that they might abandon him here. 

The white creature touched the gate's latch. In the space of moments, his hands began to smoke and he leapt back with a pained shriek, the first noise he had heard a fairy make that wasn’t for communication.

Kyoutani watched in amazement as the white of the thing's palms turned crinkled and black, almost as if he were burning with no flame, skipping straight to ash. The black spread up his arms, eating away to his core in a matter of moments until there was nothing left.

His armor fell to the ground with a clink.

"Iron!" one of the warrior's cried out and drew his sword. "It's a trick!"

The strange fairy moved faster than the one who spoke. His long arms wrapped around Kyoutani, yanked him back and his chin up, baring his throat to the sharp of a blade that Kyoutani had not even seen drawn. 

"You intended us all to die from that?" His voice was calm. "Not a well thought out plan."

"No!" Kyoutani gasped. "I didn't know the gate was iron, it looks silver, silver, I didn't know-"

"He speaks true," the strange fairy said and Kyoutani could feel him shrug as he was released. Kyoutani itched to know he was so close to his sword but unable to do anything.

"One of the demon kings spells," a mage announced, hands hovering near the gate. "To make it appear to be silver."

"How adroit of him," the strange fairy said. "Hiding his palace's heart in a place we could not get into by ourselves. Luckily, we have with us someone who is not bothered at all by iron, don't we?" He prodded Kyoutani in the back. "Open it. Free one of his hands, only long enough for him to hold it for us."

Kyoutani obeyed, mind reeling. Well, at least that was one enemy down, which was a strike of good luck, and seemed to provide evidence for his claims that the palace heart was here. He took a few great breaths as he entered the path to the garden.

It smelled the same as it had before, fresh but not cloying. Just as it had, all that time ago, it looked more like part of a forest than a garden, yet many of the details were different. The trees were of a different kind, less of those firs that stood in the mountains where he had grown up and more oaks, thickly set.

The pool was gone as well, replaced instead by a table carved from a stump of a fallen tree. Even from such a distance, Kyoutani could see that there were weapons upon the table. Swords and bows and maces, each bigger and meaner than the last and all promising that he could break free if he could but wrap his hands around one of their hilts.

He had to get to the table, he had to, if he could but grab one of those weapons, he was sure he could free himself. Perhaps they had not so tightly tied him after freeing him to let him handle the gate, perhaps with just a bit of effort he could snap the restraints and grab one of those wonderful looking weapons. The mace, the mace looked promising, or the largest sword. It was so big, perfect for him.

It was then that his mind balked. He already had a sword that was perfect for him and it was far closer than the table, strapped to his enemies back.

He had brought them here for a reason.

It was hard to tear his eyes from the table but he forced himself to do so, to look at the warriors around him. They looked by turns dreamy, flushed, confused. He wondered what they were seeing.

"The heart..." the strange fairy stepped forward hands twitching. 

Another fairy beat him to it, rushing forward. From Kyoutani's perspective, he grabbed at a wicked looking pike, wrapping both hands around it.

Then he screamed, blood appearing at his chest. Kyoutani blinked, the scene shimmering, and for a moment he could see the Dreaming Desiderurtica, small and yellow, with a dark spike arching out of the main shrub and puncturing the fairy's chest, crumpling his armor like nothing, He was sucked into it, the white of his armor and skin striping the plant with veins of light.

"It's protected!" the strange fairy shouted and Kyoutani's concentration snapped, turning the garden back to the forest, no sign of the warrior who had been caught anywhere to be seen. "Attack it with everything you have!"

The familiar sound of his own blade being swung through the air made Kyoutani turn, watching wide eyed as the strange fairy ran forward with Kyoutani's sword in his hand. He swung it down at the table that concealed the plant's true body.

Kyoutani could only watch in horror, still bound, as his sword was hit by something he could not see. A hairline fracture ran through its main body, then another, and another, until it was webbed with cracks. It shattered, the strange fairy screaming with it as he was pierced through with ease.

More and more fairies attacked and fell. Kyoutani's vision was a blur of reality and illusion. There were needles, there were forests, there were bodies, there was calm. The light holding him dissolved as the mages controlling it were slain. 

Kyoutani could tell that the reach of the plant was getting further. Fairies were falling in a wider and wider arc, and every time he managed to see the true scene it had grown larger, with longer nettles and thorns whipping around to seek more creatures to absorb. 

He had to leave, but the pull of it was so strong. He would try to step away and then a nagging doubt would catch fire in his mind, telling him he had to turn back, had to take one of the weapons with him. He knew they were not real, he knew it, yet he could not believe it.

He needed to go.

He needed to stay.

Something sharp bit into his wrist and Kyoutani thought he was done for, that he would be slain by that plant to be devoured, but the pain merely stung. He looked down and saw a hand wrapped around him, clawed and speckled with blood.

"Kyoutani," he heard a voice say urgently and felt a puff of breath against his ear, though the sound felt like it came from a great distance. "Come with me."

"The weapons," he said numbly as he was dragged backward. He wanted to resist, in a way, yet he also wanted to obey any command he heard. "I need to take..."

"We can come back later," the voice said soothingly and Kyoutani's last resistance crumbled. If he could come back, he could take a weapon then. It would be alright.

He was led from the garden and away, head spinning as the fog cleared from his mind. It was not sudden, like it had been before, but a slow draining out. Reality came back to him in bits, his plan, the deaths, and now, somehow, Yahaba pulling him away, hand clamped around his wrist. 

"Did you get to the heart?" Kyoutani asked, confused.

"No," Yahaba said, wiping his bangs from his face. Almost all of the white paint they had used to disguise themselves was gone from his face with sweat and Kyoutani expected he was much the same. "There's too many guards for me to take out on my own. I need your help." He looked back, pursing his lips as he searched Kyoutani's face before offering a weak smile. "That was quick thinking, leading them there. I'm impressed."

"How did you find me?" Kyoutani asked.

"The discs," Yahaba said. "Since I made them, I can tell where they are."

Kyoutani had forgotten about his spell disc entirely after he had been captured. He looked and saw it was hovering in his shadow, as if in hiding.

"The distraction worked pretty well," Yahaba said. "Most of the Forces here are all headed that way, and since that mercenary took you away without telling anyone, they don't seem to know what was behind the explosions."

"But the heart is still guarded?" Kyoutani asked. "Do they know where it is?"

Yahaba's lips thinned. "I don't believe so," he said. "Or we would be in far greater trouble than we are now, I believe. No, they're guarding it for a different reason." Abruptly he stopped, Kyoutani nearly running into him. With his free hand he gestured forward.

They were nearly at the scrivening tower, where Yahaba had spent so much time after Oikawa had left. There were guards thick on the ground around the base of the tower, looking alert. Several of them had swords out, ready for an attack.

"The heart is hidden below the tower." Yahaba's voice was barely more than a breath, warm against Kyoutani's ear. "They're focused on the communication spells at the top, trying to crack the codes to discover our troop movements. But it won't be long until they figure out that the energy signature isn't right."

"So we need to get you in there,” Kyoutani said.

"Are you up for fighting?" Yahaba asked.

"I can do it," Kyoutani said, trying to sound surer than he felt. They had no other option, after all. "I might... I'll probably lose control soon, though."

Yahaba nodded. "We'll go quickly, then," he said. He held out the sword from his stolen uniform to Kyoutani and took out his daggers, clicking them open.

"On your mark," Kyoutani said, hand settling around the unfamiliar grip.

Yahaba checked his weapons over, closed his eyes for a moment. Then he reopened them and raised a hand.

Kyoutani lunged forward, hurtling toward the fighters ahead of him. They reacted quickly, swelling forward to meet him. Kyoutani did not break his pace, swinging his blade up. They met with a crash of metal, Kyoutani not slowing so that he barreled into the first wave and took them down with his bulk alone.

He fought hard, aware of Yahaba behind him as he cleared a path to the tower. He sliced out again and again, adding as much force as he could to each swing. His arms were tired, stamina nearly worn out, but he dared not call on the beast for more of its energy, knowing the moment he opened that door he would be unable to close it again. He needed to get Yahaba into position before he could lose control.

A sharp flare of agony roared through his arm and he felt the sword slide from fingers he could no longer close around its hilt. He howled, barely keeping his mind from shattering around the pain of it.

They were almost at the tower.

With a grunt, Kyoutani dropped to the ground out of the way of an incoming lick of white flame, rolling so that he passed over the dropped sword. He snagged it with his left hand and rose to a crouch, cutting the nearest warrior off at the knees before he sprung back up to fight anew.

They made it to the tower base, Kyoutani kicking the door open. Yahaba slipped under his arm to rush in first, slicing thin lines across the face of the guard there to greet them, dropping him quickly. 

Kyoutani barred the door behind them, even if it would only buy them a few seconds, and focused on the guards inside. The tower was tall and had a winding staircase that curled around the walls, thin enough that their enemies were forced to come from above one at a time, save the mages who could send blasts of power from above.

As Kyoutani blocked such a blast, ricocheting it so that it hit one of the warriors about to charge down the last step, Yahaba knelt on the ground at the center of the tower base, pressing his palm to the simple black stone that covered the floor. 

With a soft click barely louder than those of Yahaba’s knives, the floor parted, sliding out and away to reveal another set of stairs that led down. Yahaba wasted no time in disappearing down into that darkness. Kyoutani fell back, keeping the stream of guards from following him.

Slowly he was pressed down the stairs after Yahaba, unable to fight off all the guards himself without constantly giving ground. Backing down the stairs while trying to fight was unmanageable, so he dashed to the bottom so he could fight them there.

He didn't have time to take a good look around, not while fighting, but he could tell the room they had come into was large and shadowy, lit by a flickering golden light that Kyoutani had to turn away from to properly meet the enemies coming down the stairs after them.

During a lull, the sound of the tower door being forced open above them, Kyoutani turned to get a glimpse of a pillar of gold shimmering and warping in the center of the room, sending the shadows dancing. 

Yahaba stood before it, hands outstretched. Gold thread twined between his fingers, crawling underneath his sleeves to climb his arms. As Kyoutani watched, he stepped forward, submerging himself completely in the dark golden light.

A flood of warmth filled the room as gold and pale blue exploded, rushing through Kyoutani. He could feel the depth of the power racing across the earth, getting stronger as it went. The ground shook, sending the warriors on the stairs toppling to the ground where Kyoutani could slay them easily.

The quake grew and Kyoutani went down on a knee as the world trembled around him. He couldn't tell what kind of war was being waged above him, but he could feel the thick pulse of golden magic, still lightly twined blue, slamming in waves through the ceiling. The entrance way to the heart's room closed on its own, bathing them in darkness except for that golden glow.

The last warrior raced toward that glow, a blinding gleam of his own magic moving to circle around it. Before it could reach, Kyoutani beheaded him.

Kyoutani slumped back against one of the walls when he was sure no more enemies would appear. He clutched his arm, still bleeding, staining what white makeup was left on his hands. 

He could see Yahaba's figure inside the pillar, feel him weakly in the light blue threads of magic that were almost eclipsed by the gold, just as he had felt the purple of the shield magic as being connected to Oikawa. 

Unsure what else to do, unable to tell what flashes he was seeing were magic and what were blood loss, Kyoutani removed what armor he could so that he could rip his shirt into strips and use them to bind up his arm.

Red swam at the corners of his vision, the beast lurking, trying still to seize control. He could hardly believe he had held it off for so long. Kyoutani gritted his teeth, too tired to do more than keep it at bay. With the rush of battle fading away, so to was his energy. At least that impacted the beast as much as him, making it harder for it to sink hooks of aggression into his mind.

He struggled to keep his eyes open, knowing it was a losing fight. He had lost too much blood, was still building on the exhaustion of earlier.

Just before his eyes closed, he saw Yahaba's silhouette buckle and fall to his knees, hands pressed to his head. Kyoutani wanted to do something, to reach out a hand, to get up and go to him, but he couldn't move. 

Darkness stole his vision.

—

Kyoutani came to with a start, reaching for a sword that wasn't there with an arm that couldn't move. Something cool held him in place, a soothing aura emanating from where it enveloped his injuries.

"It's okay," a voice filtered in as Kyoutani tried to thrash. "The fight is over, you're safe." Fingers pressed against his temple and some of the muzziness eased, letting him open his eyes. 

He was outside the scrivening tower, sky above him. With a little help, he pulled himself into a sitting position, rubbing his head. The mage squatted beside him was one he had seen around before, a pale-haired man named Yaku. Kyoutani had known him as an advisor to Kuroo and a summoner; he hadn't known he could heal. He had left with Oikawa and the rest of the court.

"What happened?" Kyoutani asked, throat hoarse. He looked up at the sky again, checking the sun. It was far down in the sky, several hours off where he had last seen it. "Where's Yahaba?"

"We took back the palace," Yaku told him. "What you and Yahaba-san did, with the heart, gave us an opening to be able to mount a full assault on the Silent Forces."

Kyoutani nodded, feeling vaguely numb. "Where is he?" he asked. He remembered seeing Yahaba falling, remembered not being able to move. "Is he okay?" 

Yaku's face clouded. "We don't know yet," he said. "Oikawa-sama and Watari-san are— Hey, wait, you need to rest more—!”

Kyoutani didn't bother waiting to hear the rest of Yaku's protests as he stumbled into the tower proper. The floor was open, faint gold light shining over the staircase. The guards, demons and humans, didn't try to stop him as he went down, not that he would have listened.

Down in the chamber, the glow was stronger but still a pale reflection of when Yahaba had first entered it, closer to the passive pillar they had encountered upon their entrance. There were glowing demonfire orbs providing light for the benefit of human eyes hovering around the room, casting out the shadows.

Iwaizumi was leaning back against one of the walls, wiping blood off his sword with a scowl on his face. Oikawa stood before the pillar, facing away from it. Golden tendrils reached out from it to him, entangling with his fingers and caressing his back, like a cat greeting a beloved owner.

Oikawa was standing over Yahaba's form, floating in the air a meter off the ground. Watari was with them, his hands raised with the shiver of magic racing from his palms to enter Yahaba's chest. Kyoutani couldn't see any wounds on Yahaba, but his face was pale and his breath short and shallow.

"What's wrong with him?" Kyoutani asked, stumbling forward. "He just suddenly fell, I didn't see anything hit him—”

"It's the heart," Oikawa said, looking worn. "It takes a lot out of someone to use it, and it only works for demons. Yahaba is half-human. It was pushing it for him to try to use chaos power at all, let alone for so long and so much."

"Then why the hell did you leave him in charge of it?" Kyoutani asked, anger prickling hard behind his eyes. He half expected Yahaba's hands to be translucent, they seemed so frail and weak.

"Leave it," Iwaizumi said, clapping a hand on Kyoutani's shoulder. "Yahaba knew that when he agreed to it."

"No, Iwa-chan," Oikawa said tiredly. "That's not right. We both know Yahaba would agree to anything I asked. I shouldn't have told him to do it, even if I didn't expect him to ever have to use it. Even if I knew I had to get away from it.” He ran a hand over his face.

"Oikawa," Iwaizumi said, and Kyoutani decided to stop paying attention. He wasn't interested in hearing them try to reassure each other or castigate themselves after the fact. Even if Oikawa had been under the influence of chaos sickness, he was still the king. And even if Iwaizumi was fed up, he'd still accepted the role of keeping Oikawa in check to protect the kingdom, but apparently that didn't include making sure Yahaba was protected.

"Is he going to live?" Kyoutani asked, not caring if he was interrupting.

"We aren't sure yet," Watari said. "We're giving him the best chance we can, but I need to concentrate."

"That's our cue to leave," Iwaizumi said and steered Kyoutani out. Kyoutani was only thankful that he let go as soon as they reached the outside of the tower once again, where an irate Yaku yelled while never pausing in stitching up a gash on the face of a tall knight in training. Iwaizumi walked away to speak quietly to another one of the knights, leaving Kyoutani to bear his scolding and then, blissfully, be let alone. 

Sitting on one of the stone slabs on the ground, looking as if it had come of the tower itself, Kyoutani listened to the babble from the crowds around him. The whole area was covered with members of Oikawa's fighting forces, mages and warriors. Many were injured, all showed signs of fighting, but there was an ease about them that felt so counter Kyoutani's recent experiences that it made him bristle.

He was surprised, then, when someone came to sit down next to him. It was the demon Kunimi, stretching out his legs. With him around Kindaichi was never far off and it took only a moment for Kyoutani to find him, reporting nervously to one of the upper guardsmen.

"The Silent Forces seem to have blasted through Datekougyou’s Iron Wall earlier this week,” Kunimi told him. "They'd been preparing for years, waiting for a chance to sweep over these lands. Oikawa-sama said they probably were aiming to take over the whole Jeweled Coast in one go, create a monopoly on some of the resources here.”

"I didn't ask," Kyoutani said, voice gruff. "I'm not interested in politics."

"I heard you fought the whole day without losing control of your curse," Kunimi continued, not put off in the slightest. "That's impressive."

Kyoutani shook his head. He was surprised at himself, for managing to keep it together. He'd never gone so long, been so injured, without the beast stealing his body from him before. "It was close thing," he said.

Kunimi nodded and said nothing, seemingly uninterested in continuing the conversation. They sat for several minutes, soldiers milling around them busily. Kyoutani tried not to be too obvious about how hard he was staring at the tower door, willing someone to come from it with news.

"Iwaizumi is back," Kyoutani said, breaking the silence when he could bear it no longer.

Kunimi nodded. "He found a band of fighters to help knock sense back into Oikawa-sama,” he explained. "That was only a bit ago, actually."

"Is that something that happens to you, that chaos sickness stuff?" Kyoutani asked. He wondered if it happened to Yahaba, if that was part of why he had jumped into something that could kill him without a backwards glance. No, Kyoutani thought with a grimace. That was just Yahaba's stupidly intense sense of duty.

"Sometimes," Kunimi said. "Not as intensely. I try to avoid situations where I have to use a lot of chaos power. Oikawa-sama has to use a lot, holding the kingdom together."

"Iwaizumi-san helps him." Kindaichi approach had taken Kyoutani by surprise, he had to hide a jump. "They're looking for something better than the current system, bringing in as many magical experts of as many kinds as possible, but, well..."

"It's slow going," Kunimi said.

Kyoutani shook his head. He wasn't interested in feeling bad for Oikawa, for Iwaizumi. He wanted to be angry, to be able to hit something. Usually the aftereffects of a battle left him feeling sick and unsettled because of what the beast did, but this was bad in a whole different way. He felt hollow and worn, like nothing he did really mattered, even if he saw the proof of what he and Yahaba had done all around him.

Kunimi and Kindaichi left as it started growing dark, helping carry stones and bags of supplies under the direction of the medics. Yaku brought him supper and watched him eat it with a steely eyed gaze that made Kyoutani sure he didn't want to risk disobeying him.

"Don't stay out in the cold for too long," Yaku said when Kyoutani was chewing his last mouthful. "You have almost no reserves right now, even if you're pretending you can't feel it. You need rest, badly. You're doing no one any good sitting out here." He flung a blanket around Kyoutani's shoulders and left, not offering Kyoutani an opportunity to argue or refuse.

Shifting the blanket so that it covered most of him from the chill descending in the air, Kyoutani stayed waiting and watching the tower door. Iwaizumi went in and out, carrying food and drinks for those inside, but he only shook his head at Kyoutani's questioning glare.

His limbs were growing stiff and his eyes aching with the need to fall closed and stay that way when the tower door opened and Watari backed out. He was followed by Yahaba's body, still midair and linked by magic to Watari's hands. Oikawa came last, looking shaky. He accepted a steaming mug from one of the mages with a nod of thanks and leaned against Iwaizumi.

Kyoutani barely noticed, eyes fixed on Yahaba. Was he still breathing? He looked so still, Kyoutani couldn't tell, and then the group was surrounded by the other healers and Yahaba was born away, leaving Watari behind to rub his eyes and sway.

It took Kyoutani an embarrassingly long time to be able to stand, his body protesting from his skin down to his bones at the movement. Watari met him midway to the hall where Yahaba had disappeared into, carried by magic.

"He's still alive," Watari told him, sounding nearly as exhausted as he looked. "We've done all we can. Now it'll just be time, to see if he can wake up."

"Do you think he will?" Kyoutani asked. 

Watari's eyes fluttered. "I'd say he has about a fifty-fifty chance, but Yahaba's stubborn. Maybe he has slightly more." 

Kyoutani nodded. He knew firsthand how stubborn Yahaba could be. If nothing else, he could place his hopes in that.

—

The next fortnight was a whirlwind of activity that Kyoutani watched from the sidelines. The palace was badly damaged from not only the initial invasion but also Kyoutani and Yahaba's activities in taking it back. As more of the court trickled back in, following the fighting force, they were pressed into work on repairs. They hauled stones back to their proper places, rebuilt walls and walkways, started out the long task of cleaning all the traps the fairies had left in their brief occupation.

Kyoutani was told in no uncertain terms by Yaku that he was not allowed to participate with the work crews that did the physical labor, not until he was pronounced fit. He was no good for the cerebral work, either, drawing up plans or discussing how to reform and strengthen the wards, so he was mostly cast by the wayside, unneeded.

Yahaba did not wake. He slumbered not in the infirmary wing where most of the injured stayed, nor even in his own rooms with attendant healers like the more high ranking injured did. Instead, he stayed in one of Oikawa's sets of rooms, the king watching over him.

Kyoutani did not try to visit. For one thing, it would be silly. They were not even friends, for though Kyoutani knew little of friendship, he knew enough to understand that a strange connection formed through survival and sex was not a true friendship. 

For another, the idea of seeing Yahaba so lifeless, so frail, made Kyoutani want to punch something.

Sick of sitting in his room, stewing in his own negativity, Kyoutani went to the infirmary and offered his services there. He had no magic, of course, to be able to do as mages did to ease suffering, but he could clean basins and redress wounds, could fetch water and broth, could make some use of himself.

As the days stretched on, many of those who had been evacuated during the Silent Forces's assault returned to the palace. Kyoutani was heartened by how many of even the fighters had made it, though the awestruck looks they gave him made discomfort rise in his chest.

Yahaba slept on.

The infirmary slowly emptied as those who had been hurt healed enough to return to their own quarters. The palace began to look more like it once did, surprising Kyoutani in the quickness of its repair. He expected that Oikawa was using the palace's heart to help and more magic besides, but it was still eerie, to walk past gates he knew to have been destroyed and find not even a crack.

He was sent away from the infirmary, told he could do no more good there, and focused instead on the list of exercises Yaku had approved him to do for his rehabilitation. He was not the only one given such exercises, but he chose to practice them alone, in the cool of the night air rather than the mornings when the knights usually gathered.

He was finishing his exercises one night, slow movements that strengthened the new connections in his right arm, when a throat was cleared and he turned to find Oikawa's red eyes peering at him out of the shadows. 

The king stepped forward, cape whispering over the ground where it brushed. "You're getting stronger," he said with approval.

Kyoutani made a noncommittal noise and waited for Oikawa to say what he wanted. He doubted he'd have come to visit just to note how his healing progress was going.

Oikawa answered his question quickly, holding out a hand that had two gems in the center, each only a half the size of Kyoutani's old amulet but otherwise identical in shape. One was blue, the other red.

"You've gained much control over the beast," Oikawa said. "So this time I will give you a choice. The topaz works much as your old one did, a full barrier when you are within the palace walls. The pyrope garnet, on the other hand, can't be relied on to guard you completely, but will allow you to call on more of the beast's power for your own use. You can also use it anywhere, not just in this palace. You'll be free to leave, should you take it."

Kyoutani frowned. Leave?" he asked, just to be sure he understood right.

Oikawa nodded. "Indeed. You've made enough progress that I do not think you have much else to gain on that front by staying here."

"My debt," he started, only to fall quiet when Oikawa shook his head.

"Repaid by your actions dealing with the fae." Oikawa lifted Kyoutani's hand from where it lay by his side and pressed the two amulets into his palm, closing his fingers around it. "You are, of course, welcome to stay if you wish. It’s going to be war, I’m afraid, to push the Silent Forces back, to find what remains of Datekougyou’s Iron Council, and I could put a fighter like you to good use, but you are not obligated. Think it over, Kyoutani Kentarou. You can choose what to make of your life now. It is not a decision to be made lightly, though experience shows me that it is also not one you can expect to decide once and be done with. You may be wrestling with that question, in some form, for the rest of your days."

Kyoutani looked at him for a long moment, unsure what to say in response. He had never put much thought into what he might do with his future when the curse no longer weighed on him like a hangman’s noose about his neck. What would he do? All he was good for was slaughter and destruction, unleashed on whichever target someone was willing to pay to see brought to wreckage. The closest thing he’d had to a purpose was finding Oikawa, in the promise of a glimmer of hope.

He’d never let himself imagine beyond that.

“Think about it,” Oikawa said. He began to fade away around the edges, disappearing to another part of the palace. When he was only the faintest outline of himself, his voice came again, just as loud as before. “Yahaba woke up a few days ago. I thought you’d want to know.”

Kyoutani’s head jerked but before he could say anything, ask anything, Oikawa’s last afterimage was gone, leaving him alone in the training yard. His fingers tightened around the weight he’d been given to work with, trying to disguise the sudden shakiness in his hands.

Yahaba was awake.

He was struck by the urge to go to him, to try to see him, but that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? Yahaba was surrounded by people he cared for the most of all. What had Oikawa said? That Yahaba would do anything he asked? Clearly, Yahaba was exactly where he most wanted to be. If he wanted to see Kyoutani, an unlikely idea, he could easily send word to him.

He was awake, which meant he was healing. He’d be fine. Obviously, Kyoutani had worried for a comrade, someone he’d fought side by side with, and now he knew he was alright. That was the end of that. He had no reason to keep feeling on edge, no reason to have his heart beating so fast _now_. It was stupid, ridiculous. It was presumptuous, to pretend like Yahaba would be interested in seeing him now.

Kyoutani growled, picking up one of the wooden staffs left nearby to do some practice with his good arm, trying to tire himself out of thinking useless thoughts. He didn’t know why now, of all times, his mind was choosing to go down such absurd pathways. 

He must have slipped up, having sex with Yahaba a second time, even if it was under circumstances where it had been hard to care. He’d learned long ago, with those strange enough to want him a second time, that he grew attached too quickly, not used to being touched in any way close to kindness. It was even worse, clearly, with the soft way they had been together, so unlike what he knew. Now his mind was confusing physicality for affection, trying to trick him into wanting something he couldn’t have, that no one would want to give him, and he couldn’t _stand it_. 

The wooden staff splintered beneath his suddenly too strong grip, his unregulated breathing split the air in heavy gasps. Swearing at his own folly, Kyoutani kicked the broken halves of the staff away and set back to his rooms. He’d set about putting his things in order to leave the palace the next day. It was past time he was on the road again. Staying too long in one place didn’t suit him, clearly.

—

Once Kyoutani had made the decision to leave, however, he began to run into constant delays and reasons to wait. He wanted to get the next set of exercises from Yaku, he ought to read a few more books from the extensive library before he was gone. There was still damage to repair on the roads outside the city, he ought to help with that, or else he realized he needed to build a more serious winter wardrobe if he was to leave this late in the autumn.

He did his best to make sure he wasn't anywhere he might run into Yahaba by accident, even if it meant varying his routine far out of his comfort zone. The few times he thought he caught sight of the flutter of a familiar white robe or Yahaba's distinctive puff of hair, Kyoutani backed away quickly.

He graduated from resistance exercises to being allowed to slowly, carefully begin weapons training with his right arm again, under strict orders not to overexert himself with penalty of getting thrashed in the judo practice courts by Yaku if he disobeyed.

Kyoutani stuck to using the wooden staffs, not even fashioned into proper pole arms, that the junior fighters used to learn new techniques. He had glanced through one of the spare armories, assured by Iwaizumi that he was free to take anything there that called to him as his own, no debt.

Kyoutani had handled sword after sword, finding each too light, too elegant. Not one held a candle to the savage, brilliant beauty of his old sword. It had been his constant companion through the last decade of his life, never failing him. A sword more suited to his individual wants could never be made nor bought, Kyoutani was sure.

When he thought of how it had looked, shattering in the garden, it made him feel sick.

He'd need a weapon when he left, most assuredly, but Kyoutani couldn't bear to claim any of the delicately crafted blades in the armory as his own just yet. So he worked with the wooden staffs, picking out weighted ones as he grew stronger, not yet ready to face working with a new weapon.

It was becoming harder to find time to practice on his own. Oikawa's statements that war was brewing had seemed to bear fruit. Warriors streamed through every centimeter of the palace, stuffing the yards as they worked their skills with grim determination.

Forced to go further and further afield, Kyoutani began to leave the palace grounds, taking the red amulet with him as he went. There he could go through exercises on the grassy hillsides by the capital, or even in the city itself, where he was given a wide berth by the townspeople who still knew him best by the tales of the violent exploits of the Mad Dog Knight.

He was working in the city in one of the more secluded squares on one such day when a cough drew his attention. He finished the drill he was working on, bringing his staff whirling back into ready position, and turned to find a youth in the guard uniform watching him.

"You're so good at that," the boy said, admiration coloring his voice. He ruffled his bush of brown hair. Something about his voice, that hair, seemed familiar, and Kyoutani frowned as he tried to place him.

"The knight from the guard house," he said when it finally came to him. "The one who survived the first attack."

"Thanks to you," the boy said and bowed. "Inuoka Sou. I never got a chance to properly express my grati—”

"It's fine," Kyoutani said, cutting him off before he could finish saying words that would just make Kyoutani feel awkward. "I'm glad you made it through the battle alright. Are you healing up okay?" 

Inuoka nodded and blushed, pulling on his fingers awkwardly. "I actually, um, was wondering if I could ask you a favor, Kyoutani-san."

Kyoutani nodded, mystified. "Well, you can ask," he said carefully, wondering what on earth a kid like Inuoka would want from someone like him.

"I know you must be busy, working on your own practices and everything, with the war coming soon and all, and you obviously shouldn't feel the need to say yes, so forgive me for even asking, I really—”

"Just spit it out," Kyoutani said, rubbing his head. "I won't rip your head off for asking, I swear."

"I was wondering if you could give me some pointers?" Inuoka said and gestured to Kyoutani's staff. "With fighting, and all that. You're such a good fighter."

Kyoutani wiped some sweat from his neck, thinking. "Iwaizumi-san is better, both as a fighter and a teacher. Actually, there are loads better teachers in the palace."

"Everyone is so busy preparing for war," Inuoka said. "And you're so incredible! I want to be able to fight like you, Kyoutani-san." Admiration flashed in his brown eyes, making Kyoutani feel a mixture of confusion and shame. What about him was admirable?

"I mean, I guess I can help you out," he said, balancing the staff along the flat of his hand. "I don't know what you expect to gain from it, though. Do you have a staff?"

Inuoka did, and so Kyoutani worked with him until the bell chimed out over the city marking an hour before supper. Inuoka was an exuberant learner, quick to assimilate any tips Kyoutani gave him, and Kyoutani found him unexpectedly enjoying himself. He'd mostly taught himself how to fight, from watching others and sometimes reading old books on combat techniques when he had the chance to pick one up, and getting to translate what he had painstakingly worked out on his own into lessons for another was strangely nice.

"Can I come back tomorrow?" Inuoka asked as they trudged the road back to the palace. "I mean, would it be too much of an imposition?"

"It's fine," Kyoutani said. "I'll be at the same spot."

Inuoka showed up the next day, and the next, and the next after that. On the fourth day, he came with the tall young knight named Lev, who Kyoutani had often seen hanging on or around Yaku, driving the short mage's shoulders up around his ears. He too requested tips from Kyoutani, though he was not nearly as fast a learner as Inuoka, he had his own kind of exuberance that made training him as amusing as it was occasionally aggravating.

More and more younger knights and squires started coming to Kyoutani's practices until he was practically overseeing a class. Many were Inuoka's friends, most were human fighters without magic. Kyoutani was the most surprised to see Kindaichi there, who he had thought would have been too scared of him to come near, but Kindaichi was more than happy to get instruction from him. Kunimi came too, though he napped rather than join in their practice.

The strangest thing was how they all seemed to enjoy his instruction. Kyoutani was not sure why, he knew he had no real skill as a teacher. Often he had to backtrack during explanations, realizing he had lost his audience from the clueless looks they gave him. He struggled to translate instinctive behaviors into concrete advice, having to work with each student individually for ages to find a way that they could communicate. He only rarely remembered to offer praise, moving on to the next item with barely a word of acknowledgement. What he did offer was stilted, awkward, nothing like the easy encouragement he'd heard flow from Iwaizumi's lips.

Yet they all came back, hung off his words, seemed to improve. Perhaps it was just as Inuoka had said, that they had no one else to instruct him. It seemed the simplest explanation.

"You're good at this, Kyoutani-san," Kunimi told him during a break at the second week of practices he'd attended. 

"Am I? I'm just pointing out stuff I see going wrong," Kyoutani said with a shrug. He didn't see what was so great about that, anyone used to fighting could do it, or so it seemed to him. 

"If you say so," Kunimi said and nodded at someone beyond Kyoutani's shoulder. "I think you have a visitor." He hopped off the hay cart he'd been using as a mattress, going to join Kindaichi and the others.

Kyoutani turned to see Yahaba watching him, leaning up against one of the walls. The corners of his mouth twitched up slightly when he saw Kyoutani looking, but his eyes remained narrowed and his face guarded. He held out a full waterskin to Kyoutani, beckoning him over.

"You look well," Kyoutani said, taking the waterskin and gulping from it greedily. Even in the cool autumn air, the exertion still warmed him.

Yahaba gave the same half-smile as before, running a now free hand through his hair. He did look well, much better than the last time Kyoutani had seen him. There was a bloom of color in his cheeks, likely from the chill, though he had a thick knit scarf wrapped around him. His eyes were alert, his posture stiff as ever.

"Thank you," Yahaba said. "I've been feeling much better."

Kyoutani nodded and waited, but Yahaba didn't seem inclined to offer anything more. "Why are you here?" Kyoutani asked, knowing his voice came out far too brusque. "I mean, do you need something?" 

"I heard you were mentoring some of the younger knights," Yahaba said, a glimmer of his usual wickedness in his eyes. "I simply had to come see for myself if such a wild story could _possibly_ be true." 

Kyoutani was rolling his eyes before he could stop himself. "Always glad to amuse you," he said, knowing he sounded crotchety and not caring.

"Always glad to be amused," Yahaba said quietly. "I think your disciples are missing you."

Kyoutani turned to see that Lev and Kindaichi were getting into some kind of argument about proper grips, Inuoka bouncing around them. He hurried over to cut it off before it turned truly quarrelsome. He set the whole group to new drills, walking amongst them to correct a stance here or a strike there.

Yahaba stayed to watch, eventually going over to chat quietly with Kunimi. Kyoutani tried not to be too aware of him, telling himself it didn't matter if Yahaba had come to what, gawk and laugh at his attempts at teaching? The idea chafed against him, distracting him, and Kyoutani mentally apologized to his students for his inattention.

If he had dared hope that dragging out the practice would lead to Yahaba leaving before it was over, he was sadly mistaken. Yahaba seemed in no rush at all, even as the sun set in the cool afternoon sky. Finally, when it was too dark to see but for the demonfire lanterns that lined all the streets in the capital, Kyoutani had no choice but to send everyone off for the day.

Yahaba fell in step with him on the walk back to the castle, hands curled into his sleeves, high enough that Kyoutani judged it to be a true expression of cold, not one of the times he disguised checking with his daggers with pretend fidgets. 

"I heard you might be leaving the palace," Yahaba said when a bit of distance separated them from the others, enough that they would not be overheard.

"Oikawa said my debt was paid," Kyoutani said. "Is that what you did after you woke up? Calculated whether I was free to go or not?"

Yahaba's eyelashes fluttered. "No, oddly enough. I was busy trying to trick my mind into thinking I wasn't in burning agony, so any calculations had to wait."

"Oh," Kyoutani said, feeling guilty for his sourness and at the same time strangely relieved that Yahaba hadn't just woken up and gone back to work for days before anyone thought to tell Kyoutani. "You didn't tell me it might kill you."

"I told you my plan might kill both of us," Yahaba said. "I feel that covered it fairly well, don't you? Are you really leaving the palace?"

"The king said I could," Kyoutani said, digging his hands into his pockets as they entered the palace walls through the large gate. 

"That's not what I asked," Yahaba said. "I'm well aware of what you _could_ do, I'm asking what you _will_ do."

"I haven't made up my mind yet," Kyoutani said and frowned at himself. He was leaving. He'd decided to do it and he would. Eventually.

"Your little class would miss you if you left," Yahaba said with a mildness that made Kyoutani's teeth hurt just to hear it.

"They'd get over it," Kyoutani said, at least sure of that. They were almost at the spot where their path should diverge, heading to the different wings where their private rooms lay. "Is that all, then?" he asked.

Yahaba lay a hand on his arm, touch light. "A moment," he said. "I have something to give you. It’s in my rooms."

Kyoutani bit his lip, searching his mind for a refusal that wasn't so rude as to make Yahaba respond in kind, harrying him into coming.

"Really, Kyoutani, I'm not going to murder you," Yahaba said, apparently needing no more than the look on Kyoutani's face. "It will only take a moment and then you can go back to ignoring me until you disappear one day or whatever it is you're planning on doing."

"I said I haven't made up my mind yet," Kyoutani said, stubborn in his half-truth even as he let Yahaba drag him along. They climbed the steps to the wing where the more trusted members of the court were housed. Kyoutani had never had reason to be in this wing before, though he had wandered through once in his early explorations.

Yahaba's rooms were at the end of the hall, tucked out the way as if he didn't quite fit with the high stations of those around him. Kyoutani didn't actually know what rank Yahaba's official role as the chamberlain or unofficial one as assassin afforded him, he'd never had reason to pay attention to such things.

The real surprise came when Yahaba ushered him into the rooms. Kyoutani actually came to halt in the doorway, staring about him in disbelief. 

Of all the things he would have expected Yahaba to be, after all this time, _messy_ was not one of them.

Papers were strewn every available surface, desks to bed to even the floor. There were books in stacks by the bed, bookmarks sticking out of their pages haphazardly. One wall was given over entirely to a slate like that of a schoolmaster, scribbled over with notes, numbers, even a small and crudely drawn map.

"Something wrong?" Yahaba asked, looking back at Kyoutani where he was still standing in the doorway, gaping around him.

"You— how do you find anything?" Kyoutani asked in horrified fascination, stepping into the room and closing the door gently behind him, fearful of setting off a breeze that might knock more of the papers unto the floor.

"There's a system," Yahaba said, clearly nettled. He unwound his scarf and tossed it onto the bed. His cloak, at least, was folded and carefully set on a table. ”It's not that bad."

"It's pretty bad," Kyoutani said, looking around. On the table closest to him was a diagram of some sort of siege weapon, a catapulting contraption with spell ideas written in clear, blocky print by the side. "Am I even allowed to be seeing this stuff?"

Yahaba flapped his hand. "Wait here," he said, not bothering to answer Kyoutani's question. He disappeared into the adjoining room, most likely one for storage. Kyoutani nervously approached a broad shelf that hung over the bed. It was lined with glass bottles of varying sizes, each full of potions of all different colors, none of them labeled. He wondered how many of them were poisons. Did the blue one make the victim drown on dry land? Did the green one pickle them from the inside out?

"Here," Yahaba's voice cut through Kyoutani's lurid imaginings and making him turn. Yahaba had come back in and was holding out something wrapped in cloth, a thick parcel swathed in the the green of the best smithery in town.

With a last suspicious look at Yahaba's face, Kyoutani took the bundle from him, grunting when it was heavier than expected. He unwrapped it carefully and stared down at the contents.

He saw the blade first, sharp as sin and large, heavy in dark metal. It was the length of his forearm at least, curiously leveled in different sections. It attached in to something that looked somewhere between a glove and a set of brass knuckles, clearly meant to have a hand slipped in if not covered completely. Curious, Kyoutani tried his hand in it, it fit him perfectly. He clenched his fist, trying the range of motion, and jumped when in a motion as smooth as oil, the blade separated, becoming three.

He pressed a careful finger to the flat of one blade, feeling the metal. He knew this metal. “My sword,” he said, wonderingly. “I thought it was destroyed.”

“Not all of it,” Yahaba said. The color from before was still on his cheeks, so perhaps it wasn’t from the wind after all. He watched Kyoutani, looking as though he was trying very hard to hide a certain eagerness. “It cracked, true, but some of the parts were— salvageable. Reforgeable. I know that sword meant a lot to you, so I thought, well… It couldn’t be turned back into a sword, not one anything like how it was before, but from watching how you fought, I thought maybe something like this might be— If you like it, the smith can make a second one, for your other hand.”

Kyoutani stared at him, truly lost for words. Just having a piece of his old sword back with him settled something loose and trembly inside him, and his mind ran with ideas of how he could adapt his fighting style to a weapon like this. He’d always thought, using blades before, that he was trying to compensate for lacking claws and teeth, this weapon provided them.

“Of course, they take time to make,” Yahaba said, tucking some of his hair out of the way. “So if you’re planning to leave before the winter closes down some of the passes, you’ll have to—“

“I want to stay,” Kyoutani blurted out before he could think better of it. His neck heated, he looked down. “I mean, I..." He couldn't find another way to end that sentence. He busied himself taking off the claw blades, wrapping them back up, so that he could avoid looking at Yahaba's face.

"Ah." Kyoutani could hear the smile in Yahaba's voice, even if he couldn't explain what it might mean. "There's some areas where you're shockingly inexperienced, aren't there?"

Kyoutani glared, blushing even harder. He hated being looked down, being made fun of, not for something like this. "Fuck you," he said, turning to leave.

Hands caught his arm, tugging him back. "Oh for— I wasn't trying to insult you for once, Kyoutani, if you can believe it." Yahaba turned him back around to face him, looking half-amused, half-exasperated. "Honestly, and I had thought we were making some kind of progress toward actual communication."

"What?" Kyoutani asked, getting the feeling he was missing half the conversation Yahaba was having and not liking that feeling at all. "What are you on about now?"

"Fine, let's be as clear as possible," Yahaba said, remaining as mystifying and annoying as ever. He sighed, thinking, and settled and then resettled his hair. "After our... experiences of late, I got the idea that I might have badly misjudged you. I had thought you were, well, many things, most of them highly unflattering. I have a habit of leaping to conclusions, at times."

Kyoutani shifted the weight of the package around, wanting to fold his arms. Somehow, this supposed clarity of Yahaba's was turning out just as confusing as he had before, and Kyoutani couldn't shake the sense that he didn't know where it was going.

"Among other things, I had assumed you were selfish, concerned only with your own wellbeing. But you risked yourself, for the people here, for what I asked of you." Yahaba smiled slightly. "I had to revise my opinion of you, to something much more favorable, if not yet fully developed."

"What are you trying to say?" Kyoutani asked, sure his face was going to stick in its hard frown if he let Yahaba continue to talk for any longer.

"This is awkward for me too, you realize!" Yahaba exploded suddenly before visibly yanking his calm back into place. "I'm saying, or trying to say, if you would just _let me finish_ , is that I think I could rather grow to like you, Kyoutani, and, if you're interested, I'd like to find out if that is the case."

Kyoutani narrowed his eyes, watching Yahaba as he stood very still, clearly trying not to fidget. He was trying to sort through what Yahaba had said, translate it into normal person talk. "You're saying, what, you want to court me?" He tried to imagine him and Yahaba going for walks about the fine gardens or dancing at one of the court functions. To his horror, the idea was not nearly as repulsive as he thought it would be.

"After a fashion," Yahaba said. "Though if you want me to compose you poetry, you ought to prepare yourself for disappointment, and I can hardly imagine you carrying my favor into battle." His lips quirked. "But in the general sense, yes, I suppose that is what I'm proposing."

"With me?" Kyoutani asked, fingers curling into his new weapon's wrapping hard enough to hurt. "Are you sure?"

Yahaba put a hand on his hip and glared. "No, Kyoutani, I decided to bring you up here to give you a ridiculous, mortifying speech about my feelings without thinking it through. Of course I'm _sure_ , you ass."

"Oh," Kyoutani said. It was as if Yahaba had taken one of the elegant palace rugs and yanked it from beneath Kyoutani's boots, leaving him stumbling to try to regain his footing. Of all the ways he'd thought his silly, one-sided infatuation might play out, this had most assuredly not been on the list. "Where do we start?"

"Well, we could sit together at dinner tonight," Yahaba said. "Or..." He gave his bed a meaningful look.

"I like the sound of that," Kyoutani said, heart ticking up a few beats already. The smile Yahaba gave him did nothing to help with that, a smirking promise that heated Kyoutani's blood faster than any forge could have. 

"I was hoping you'd say that." Yahaba took the weapon back from Kyoutani, placing it carefully on one of the few clearer spaces on the desk. "Get on the bed."

Kyoutani did, gathering papers to set on the floor and out of their way but dropping most of them when Yahaba crawled on top of him, impatient and undeniable. Kyoutani had barely a glimpse of pink eyes flashing before he was pressed down, a hand in his hair at his neck tugging his head back so lips and teeth could fasten on his neck.

Kyoutani thought perhaps he shouldn't like it, letting Yahaba take charge and manhandle him this way, being so docile and compliant, but he couldn't even bother to pretend like he hadn't been aching for something exactly like this. For Yahaba's claws scratching lightly against his skull, nudging him into the position Yahaba wanted, for Yahaba's mouth, hungry and unashamedly so, sucking at his skin with such intensity Kyoutani was sure there'd be a mark.

He groaned, hands coming around to tug on Yahaba's waist, pull them even closer together. It wasn't difficult to find the edge of Yahaba's tunic and slide one palm up until he found smooth, warm skin, dig in his own nails there. 

Yahaba sucked a line across the underside of Kyoutani's chin, never so hard as to draw blood but enough to make Kyoutani hiss and roll his hips, searching for friction. Yahaba backed off, maddeningly, pulling back to grin down at him.

"What's the rush, Kyoutani?" he asked with a lick of his lips. "We have all the time in the world, now. Haven't you ever wanted to try something a little different?" 

Kyoutani opened his mouth to retort that as far as his experience was concerned, all his encounters with Yahaba had been _a little different_ , but thought better of it. He was curious as to what Yahaba meant. "Different how?" he asked.

Yahaba's smile grew and he settled down against Kyoutani's hips, just far off enough that Kyoutani couldn't get the friction he desired. "Slow. Thorough. I've never even gotten the chance to get you completely undressed, let alone really find out what you like in bed. Or in the forest, or up against a stable yard, or wherever else we might find ourselves. I'm not picky."

Kyoutani looked up at Yahaba, stomach fluttering. He was definitely in over his head, but somehow, the only nervousness he could feel at the moment rode on the edge of excitement, not fear. "Alright," he said. "What do I do?"

"Be patient," Yahaba said and tugged on Kyoutani's shirt. "Let's start with this, shall we?" 

Despite declaring that he wanted to get Kyoutani naked, Yahaba seemed to be in no hurry to actually divest him of his clothes. He drew the process out, sliding his shirt of centimeter by centimeter, exploratory fingers trailing along the skin he revealed, dipping down to capture Kyoutani's mouth in a kiss whenever he was on the edge of voicing a complaint about the pace.

Not that Kyoutani had many complaints to make.

He tugged his own shirt off, at least, with no preamble or fuss, just after he had finally gotten Kyoutani out of his shirt as well. He ran his hands along Kyoutani's chest in admiration, keeping his touch light enough to tickle at first, paying more attention to the spots that made Kyoutani's muscles jump and his breath hitch. Shifting, he leaned down to flick his tongue against one such spot, by Kyoutani's ribs.

"Patience," Yahaba murmured against Kyoutani's skin, making Kyoutani realize he'd made a whining, needy sound and canted his hips up again. He blushed to realize it, raising a hand to cover his face, only for Yahaba to pull it down again. "I want to see your face."

“Freak,” Kyoutani huffed to hide his embarrassment. Yahaba only laughed and returned to what he was doing. His path took him slowly, slowly downwards, so unhurried that Kyoutani thought he might burst from it.

With an impish look upward, Yahaba pressed his face against the swell in Kyoutani's breeches, rubbing his cheek against the hardness there. Kyoutani shuddered, fighting to keep his hips still.

"You're trying to kill me," Kyoutani grumbled, trying to drop his voice to hide the higher moan that threatened to come out.

Yahaba only smirked, turning his head so he could nuzzle against Kyoutani's clothed cock with his open mouth. "Don't be silly," he said, and he had to be aware of what the vibrations would do to Kyoutani's tattered remains of self-control. "If I wanted you dead, I have much easier ways of killing you."

Kyoutani groaned and dropped his head back against the pillow as Yahaba pressed a last kiss against him and moved his attentions down lower. Kyoutani closed his eyes and worked on getting his breathing back under control as Yahaba tugged off his boots and socks, pulling down his breeches until all of him was revealed to the cooler air of the room.

When even the soft reassurance of Yahaba's hand gently stroking Kyoutani's outer thigh disappeared, Kyoutani couldn't help but feel uncomfortable with the long moments that followed, as he lay, eyes closed, Yahaba looking down at him. Baring his body, let alone any other part of him, to another's potential scorn or judgement was not an experience that came often or easily to Kyoutani.

Luckily, Yahaba did not let him stew in his discomfort for long. The bed dipped as he crawled back on top of Kyoutani, his own clothes cast aside, and he kissed him soundly and sweetly, licking against Kyoutani's mouth with a tenderness that Kyoutani thought might grow addictive, should he experience it too often. 

"Come back," Yahaba said gently, forehead pressing against Kyoutani's, and Kyoutani opened his eyes to meet Yahaba's gaze. "You're gorgeous, you know.” Not giving any time for argument, Yahaba sealed their mouths back together, using his fangs to cut just deeply enough into Kyoutani's lip that their kiss was shot through with the metallic tang of blood, but not so much that it was more than a spark of pain.

Kyoutani actually growled when Yahaba pulled back again, slipping down the length of Kyoutani's body to kiss at one of his hip bones, nipping lighting at the angle there. He wasn't sure how much more of this torturous slow pace he could take.

As he pushed up onto his elbows so he could watch, Yahaba mouth his way down Kyoutani's thigh, only trailing to the more sensitive inner side when he was furthest away from where Kyoutani would have most appreciated his attention. Finally he began to work his way back, tongue and teeth finding spots Kyoutani wouldn't have claimed were especially sensitive before feeling another's touch on them.

As he got higher, Kyoutani's shudders grew worse, his breath coming in pants that seemed especially harsh in the quiet of this room, mingling only with the lurid noises Yahaba was making between his legs. Yahaba seemed to want to taste him _everywhere_ , licking at the seam between his leg and groin, biting at the meatiest part of his thigh, making Kyoutani drop back down onto the pillows with a grunt.

He ran his tongue over and over a certain line trailing up to Kyoutani's hip. Kyoutani wasn’t sure why, since he wasn’t particularly sensitive there, until he realized that Yahaba was tracing the path of the thickest artery to his thigh. The thought sent gooseflesh creeping up his body, not in a wholly unpleasant way. He remembered how it had felt to have Yahaba’s teeth dig into his neck, the feel of his tongue sweeping across the cuts to capture every drop of blood. He wondered how it would feel, to have Yahaba bite him on his thigh, into a much greater artery.

Yahaba sat up suddenly, the shift in weight making Kyoutani realize he’d covered his eyes again with his hand, embarrassed by the noises Yahaba was pulling out of him.

“I said I wanted to see you,” Yahaba said, though he didn’t sound upset. “Is it that hard for you?”

“It’s not, exactly,” Kyoutani said, uncomfortable. “I just keep forgetting. You’re not exactly making it easy for me to concentrate, you realize.”

Yahaba smile was mischievous but sweet as he leaned in to kiss Kyoutani again, gently. “How about I give you a little help then, hmm?” He reached over Kyoutani to grab his scarf, still on the edge of the bed where he had discarded it before. He wrapped it loosely around Kyoutani’s wrists a few times and tied it off, tugging gently on it to check the give. “How’s this?”

Kyoutani looked at his hands, tied together. It wasn’t tight enough to really keep him still at all, he could tear free in a moment, but it was a reminder. A… nice reminder. “Okay,” he said, swallowing around his suddenly dry mouth, and let Yahaba maneuver him so he was spread out again, arms stretched up above his head.

Instead of leaning back down, Yahaba stayed stretched to reach one of the bottles on the shelf. He poured some of the clear, slightly gold-tinted oil into his hand, then paused when he saw Kyoutani’s wary expression.

“Surely you’ve used lubricant before, Kyoutani,” Yahaba said with a frown.

Kyoutani rolled his eyes. “Of course I have,” he said. “I just thought… I dunno, that those might be some of your poisons or something.”

Yahaba choked. “You think I’d keep those by my bed? I’m not in the habit of risking my life every time I have a nightmare.” He shook his head, letting the bottle fall to the bed beside Kyoutani. “And for the most part, I use venoms, not poisons.”

“That distinction is really important to you, huh,” Kyoutani asked, smirking.

“I’m the one who has to extract the venom, so yes, I’d say it is important to me,” Yahaba said. “Now, do you want me to actually use this or sit around talking all day?”

Kyoutani huffed and spread his legs a little wider, inviting Yahaba to continue. Yahaba tipped his hand, letting a little of the oil trickle out onto Kyoutani, warmer than he’d expected but cool against his heated skin. One drop fell right on the head of Kyoutani’s neglected cock and slid part of the way down before trailing over the side, making him hiss because it was sensation but nowhere near enough, and Yahaba had to be doing this on purpose.

His suspicions were confirmed when Yahaba gave a self-satisfied smile and leaned into brush his lips against Kyoutani’s, a teasingly light touch. Kyoutani decided he’d let Yahaba get his way far too much already, it would be bad for him if he were let to be in charge _all_ of the time. He arched up, trapping Yahaba into a much deeper kiss, biting at his lip with greedy pleasure as Yahaba squeaked, spilling more of the oil, then kissed him back as enthusiastically as if it had been his plan all along.

He bit down harder than he had meant to when a warm, oil-slick hand wrapped around him. Yahaba didn’t break their kiss as he began to stroke Kyoutani, a slow pace that seemed designed to wring every last sensation out of him. He could feel heat sizzling through his veins, colors bloomed behind his closed eyelids. Somehow having his hands bound seemed to make every feeling sharper, every sensation headier. He pulled back, nipping weakly at Yahaba’s thinner shoulders, as Yahaba resettled his grip and bore down harder.

When Yahaba backed off again to pour more lubricant over them, Kyoutani raised his brows. “How much of that are you thinking we’ll need?”

“I like messy,” Yahaba said with a shrug. 

Kyoutani looked around the room, with its piles of papers. “No kidding,” he said, and yelped when Yahaba pinched his thigh. “So sensitive.”

“I’m not the only one,” Yahaba said, grazing the edge of his claws along Kyoutani’s hip. Kyoutani groaned, wrists pulling slightly on the scarf. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked when Yahaba continued to look down at him, warming the oil in his hands.

“Having trouble deciding,” Yahaba said, eyes moving over Kyoutani appreciatively. “A wealth of options present themselves to me.” 

Kyoutani shrugged. “Just pick one,” he said. If Yahaba was to be believed, they’d have opportunities to explore the rest later. 

Yahaba grinned and tugged Kyoutani’s hands until he could place them against his chest. “Help keep me balanced?” he asked. When Kyoutani nodded, splaying his fingers to better brace Yahaba’s weight, Yahaba leaned forward, pressing their bodies together at a better angle, even better than the one they had found before, in the forest, and began to move his hips. With Kyoutani supporting him, his hands were free to be put to use, gliding over over them, just enough friction to stoke the fire in Kyoutani’s veins to an inferno.

They slid against each other, slick with oil, Yahaba’s hips and hands setting a frenetic pace, the staccato of his thrusts off-tempo with the twist of his grip so Kyoutani couldn’t predict when the next burst of sensation would hit. Somehow, although all they were really doing was rubbing against each other, this felt more intimate than any of the times Kyoutani had buried himself in someone. Yahaba’s face was so open, his trust in Kyoutani holding him up so absolute, that it send a fizzing sensation buzzing through Kyoutani’s whole body, a trembly, tinging feeling he thought might be something akin to love.

He didn’t fall into his release so much as he sank into it as one might an ocean, the heat dissolving him from breath to bone, the gentle firmness of Yahaba’s hands the moon to his tides, pulling him through every crest of pleasure. As the last great wave receded, he was left feeling wrung-out and raw, easing Yahaba down so he did not have to ask tired arms to support him longer. 

Yahaba did not quite stop his movements but slowed them, pressing kisses to Kyoutani’s temple, whispering quiet praises. His hand was slightly shaky as he undid the scarf, freeing Kyoutani’s hands, his own hardness still pressing insistently against Kyoutani’s hip.

“You aren’t going to try to leave again, are you?” Yahaba asked, smiling slightly so Kyoutani could be sure he was only teasing.

Kyoutani snorted, reaching between them to stroke Yahaba with a steady grip, slightly rougher than the one Yahaba used on him. He might not be quite as skilled in dishing out pleasure as Yahaba was, but he was no slouch when it came to learning, and he put what tricks he did know to good use, mimicking the pace he remembered Yahaba setting when he was seeking his own release the first time they had joined this way. He reached up to pull on Yahaba’s hair, making his eyes drop half-closed as his hips jerked.

The killing blow, of course, was when he moved that hand to Yahaba’s mouth, pressing two fingers between his lips. “Go ahead,” he said, knowing Yahaba would understand what he meant. His fingers were sucked in eagerly, tongue swirling around them, and then a flash of pain, light enough that it only sent a jolt down his spine to his still exhausted cock. 

Yahaba groaned, speeding up, and gripped Kyoutani’s wrist to hold it steady while he nuzzled into his palm, biting at the fleshiest area around Kyoutani’s thumb. His tongue flicked out over the cuts, shallow enough that with Kyoutani’s abilities they would soon heal despite bleeding steadily for now, lapping at what blood he could find.

Yahaba came with a cry and went boneless soon after, letting himself sag forward until he was laying across Kyoutani’s chest, heart beating frantically. Kyoutani curled his arms around him, marveling a bit at being allowed to do that, being allowed to drag his fingers up Yahaba’s spine in a moment like this and have Yahaba only melt against him further.

Kyoutani would have been content to stay like that forever, but Yahaba shifted soon, grabbing his already much maltreated scarf to wipe up the mess between them before chucking in some indistinct distance onto the floor. Kyoutani chuckled, struck again by how unexpectedly cluttered Yahaba kept his living quarters and received an elbow in the gut for it, his thoughts apparently plain on his face.

Yahaba dragged a coverlet over them, only to pause. “I should go tell the kitchen that we’ll need dinner sent up,” he said. “And there’s sure to be new messages, and—“

“They can wait a little longer,” Kyoutani said, curling his arms around Yahaba more tightly. “Stay with me, just for a little bit.” As Yahaba tucked his head down again once more into Kyoutani’s neck, he caught sight of a smug smile. “What’s that look for?” he asked, suspicious.

“Mmm, nothing much,” Yahaba hummed, sounding very pleased with himself. “Only, I think that might be the first time you’ve asked me to stay with you, you know. Actually saying you want to be with me, with words. It’s nice.”

Kyoutani tried to muster up a glare to send in the direction of the ceiling and couldn’t quite manage it. “No need to make a bid deal of it,” he said as testily as he could manage. “It’s not like I’m going to suddenly change into some guy that spews his feelings every which way just because we’ve decide to give this… thing a shot, you know.”

Yahaba actually giggled. “I’d be most disturbed if you did,” he said. “But it’s a start, don’t you think?”

“Yeah,” Kyoutani said. “It’s a start.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The start of... a series? As you may have noticed, _Venom and Vulnerability_ is now the first part of a series! I'm currently working on the sequel, _Iron and Innocence_ , which will be from Yahaba's POV and involve a quest. Not sure when I'll finish, since I can be very slow and am always working on ten projects at once, but it will definitely occur.
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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